


Take the Lead

by JinxedAmbitions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Anal Beads, Anal Play, Athlete Dean, BDSM, BDSM exploration, Blindfolds, Bottom Castiel, Collars, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Dildos, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fighter Dean, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Overdose, M/M, Musician Castiel, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, References to Rehab, Rock Star Castiel, Safeword Use, Sex Toys, Side Pairing: Benny Lefitte/Pamela Barnes, Side Pairing: Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Smoking, Sports typical homophobia, Sub Castiel, Top Dean, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedAmbitions/pseuds/JinxedAmbitions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is one of the world's biggest rock stars. Lead singer of The Garrison. He's living a life of decadence, but he can't come up with inspiration for their next album, and they're supposed to be back in the studio in a matter of weeks. It's no secret that The Garrison's music is mostly about Castiel's sex life, and the man experiments in lovemaking as often as he does with the band's sound. Now, Cas needs a new sexual experience to inspire his music.</p><p>Dean Winchester is a Mixed Martial Artist with a reputation for being able to take a hard hit and being able to deliver an even harder one. Having a fight in Vegas is surreal for the Kansas native. Being propositioned by a rock star after the fight is equally surreal. First of all, Castiel is decidedly male with a reputation with the ladies as sordid as Dean's own. Second, his proposition to be at Dean's mercy in the bedroom is as ridiculous as it is intriguing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say thanks to my fantastic artist The-Dangerous-Ginger, who had created such beautiful artwork for this story and been an awesome person to work with.
> 
> I want to thank my wonderful beta screengeekdiaries who once again was a saving grace, betaing for me right down to the last second because I am such an awful procrastinator. Her comments and edits are always so helpful and encouraging.
> 
> I really hope you like this fic. I know it has a ton of warnings, but I promise it's really not a dark fic.

 

Dean was still wearing his opponent's blood as he walked through the arena with Benny and Bobby on either side of him. Sam would be waiting in the locker room, preferring not to watch his brother get the shit beat out of him, although Dean's record indicated that it usually went worse for the other guy. Sam didn't care.

Dean didn't blame him really—the way they'd grown up, Dean sometimes wished he taught a bunch of eight year olds how to multiply instead of stepping into the cage. But Dean was good at this, and the larger portion of him loved it completely. Training cleared his head of all the doubts that floated there; fighting gave him power he'd never had growing up.

Benny bumped shoulders with Dean as they passed the fans, bringing Dean back to himself. He walked closer to the sides of the path to shake hands and take selfies as people clapped him on the back, congratulating him on a great fight. Others asked to have his babies which he always found amusing—what was it about beating a man to a bloody pulp that made them think he would be solid sperm donor material?

Dean's thoughts were quickly taken up by the droves of people pushing against the barriers for just a moment with him. Every pat on the back or congratulations brought home that what he did meant something to others and not just him. Dean wasn't selfless, he fought for himself because it was what he was good at, and it kept him secure. However, it was nice to be appreciated.

Dean bent to pick up a marker, so he could sign another t-shirt. As he came up with the marker in hand, he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. He glanced around as the young man told him where to sign. There, from just behind the crush of people begging for his autograph, or for him to show them just how strong his pelvic muscles were, there were a pair of blue eyes, watching him. It was too dark in the arena to make out the man's face, but he looked vaguely familiar. The power of his gaze made Dean's gut twist the way it did when he stepped into the cage. He was intrigued, and he couldn't even tell why.

So, he moved onto another woman wanting a photo with him. He smiled for her and even pressed a kiss to her cheek before Benny dragged him back to the locker room.

“Can't sleep with every girl in the crowd, Chief,” Benny laughed as they walked into the locker room. Bobby grumbled behind them about Dean being more interested in catching tail than facing opponents. It wasn't true. Dean was completely focused on his career. His previous relationships were a testament to that.

“There's no harm in trying, Benny,” Dean said, giving him a cheeky smile. His trainer shook his head, chuckling softly. “You worried you won't get any with me around?”

“I've got my missus, Dean, and trust me she's a handful. Couldn't possibly handle her and a girl on the side,” Benny told him, walking over to the bags they'd brought with them. Dean knew just how much of a handful Benny's wife was; he'd introduced them back when Benny's first marriage went up in flames. Pamela Barnes was a fighter herself, and she'd kicked Dean's ass more than once, both literally and figuratively. Benny had been smitten from the moment he saw her practicing, and they'd gotten hitched about three weeks later. Kids these days.

Sam came over and hugged Dean as soon as he was through the door. “Hey, Sammy. Knocked him out in under two minutes. How about that?” Dean said, thumping his brother's back firmly.

“I'm more concerned about the hits he got in on you,” Sam replied, giving him a once over, looking for injuries.

“Don't you know I don't let 'em get hits in on me?” Dean teased, cuffing Sam on the jaw. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Right, you gave yourself that concussion three months ago.”

“He might as well have; he was so distracted,” Bobby grumbled tossing an ice pack to Dean for his knuckles. Dean was always strung tighter than a bow after a fight, so Benny was already pushing him onto the bench in order to loosen up his shoulders.

They bantered as Bobby and Benny helped him cool down. Sam had flown in for the fight, but he'd be flying out in the morning. Jess was pregnant, and work was hectic, and he just couldn't take a week of debauchery in Vegas with Dean like when they were younger.

Dean would head out to spend some time with Sam's family once he was done with his Vegas obligations. There were interviews to be done, magazine shoots, events to show up at. For the next week, Dean was the celebrity everyone wanted promoting their brand. It would fade again as soon as the fight fever was over, but Dean was going to enjoy being the king for a couple of days just the same.

Then he'd visit his brother and sister-in-law, and they'd deflate his ego until his feet were once again firmly planted on the ground. It would be good to relax at their place near the beach for a while though. He'd been taking more and more fights in the last couple years as he'd started to see the expiration date on his career.

Maybe it was his father's disappointment in him that made him want to be the best. Maybe it was the beatings he took before Bobby taught him to fight because Dean needed to make a buck, and the guy running the place would pay him just for stepping into the cage. Maybe he just needed to prove his worth to himself. No matter the reason, it was undeniable; Dean wanted to be the best. He didn't care the damage it did to him. This was the thing he was good at, and no one could take that away from him. While he was on top, he wanted to be a legend.

“How are your joints doing?” Sam asked, sitting across from Dean as Benny and Bobby fussed.

“Their fine. No swelling, right Benny?” Dean tossed over his shoulder.

“I don't know who you're kidding. You're as swollen as Sam's wife right now. Getting old, Dean,” Benny told him, working out a particularly painful knot in Dean's shoulder.

Sam gave him the look that said he was unimpressed with Dean.

“What? It's nothing. Part of the game,” Dean tried to assure him.

“Maybe it's time to retire. Settle down. Buy a house and—”

“Get yourself a rocking chair and a rifle,” Benny finished for him.

Sam scowled at Benny. Their friendship was tenuous most days. Sam resented Benny for encouraging Dean to fight, and Benny could be like a pitbull when he found a weakness and wouldn't let go, which only made Sam's resentment worse. Dean loved them both, and most days he told them both to stow the crap, but he wasn't about to talk about retirement right after one of his best fights.

“Not ready for the easy life just yet, Sammy, so let's drop it,” Dean told him, taking a long pull of his sports drink. It wasn't the brand that he was paid to drink in public. God, he hated that stuff, but they were paying for his condo.

“Fine. We getting dinner?” Sam asked, making a face at the blood that had gotten on his suit when he'd hugged Dean. Sam wasn't a stranger to fighting either. He'd beat up a couple bullies in high school, but he'd traded his sometimes violent upbringing for a chance to be a lawyer. Now, he helped kids like them get a second chance. Dean knew Sam regretted not being able to give Dean a second chance, but Dean loved his life. Okay, maybe he didn't _love_ it, but he enjoyed it most days.

“Don't we always?” Dean retorted, smiling. “Go call your wife, and tell her I survived, and I'll meet you outside.” Sam agreed, congratulating him once more before leaving.

“Boy's right, Dean. Can't go like this forever,” Bobby said once Sam was gone.

“Don't plan to, Bobby,” Dean told him. Truth was, Dean didn't have anything else outside of his fighting and training. He had Sam and Jess, but they had their own lives, and were now starting their own family. Dean didn't want to sit on his porch in an old rocker and yell at the neighborhood kids. He wasn't even forty yet. It was a little too soon to become a cranky old man.

He didn't have anything else though. He could only do so much work on his car, and he had been trying to keep his alcohol intake down because he didn't want to become his father. He didn't have a sweetheart. He didn't have a degree. Once he stopped fighting, the advertising gigs would dry up. The magazine articles would fade away. He'd be a has-been, and he'd be alone.

“Don't go getting weepy on us, Dean,” Bobby said, slapping him upside the head. “We ain't gonna up and disappear just because you retire.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean didn't try to deny his train of thought. It was never any use with Bobby. He'd just hit Dean again for lying.

So he cleaned up, showered, and put on the suit he'd been given; it was by a designer he forgot the name of, so he'd have to ask Benny just in case he was asked while out tonight.

The three of them met up with Sam in the hotel lobby and headed to the steak house they always ate at while in Vegas. Dinner was pleasant, and they kept conversation on subjects that Sam could relate to. Sam vented about how terrifying the prospect of fatherhood was. Dean was of the opinion that it was better that Sam was having kids instead himself; he was terrified of fucking up his kids as much as their father fucked them up.

Since Sam got married, he always headed up to bed after their dinner. Bobby did as well, which left Dean and Benny to hit whichever club would let them in for free, so long as Dean posed for some pictures. Benny went to keep Dean in line and prevent him from going home with the kind of woman that would poke a hole in the condom. Most of the girls Dean met were awesome, and just wanted to have a good time the way he did. It was Vegas after all. However, Dean understood desperation himself; he knew people could do some pretty ridiculous things if they were desperate enough, and blackmailing an athlete with a baby wasn't unheard of. Men were desperate too, but Dean didn't take men home, so he didn't worry so much about their desperation.

Dean posed for pictures while Benny texted Pam, no doubt making fun of Dean because he hated this kind of thing. Pam was probably making all sorts of lewd comments about Dean whoring himself out just for a few drinks and free entry. She wasn't wrong. If all he had to do for a free night of fun was pose for pictures then he damn well would. Dean had pride, but this was how it worked, and Dena had gone hungry enough times that a few nights on 'The Man' seemed like payback.

Dean was let off the hook when a bigger celebrity arrived unannounced. Dean would admit that he wasn't really knowledgeable about bands that got big after 1995, but even he knew who Castiel was. It was hard not to when the guy's face was everywhere on advertisements, gossip columns—which Dean absolutely did not read, nope not Dean—red carpets, and just about everywhere else, not to mention Dean's sister-in-law had every last one of The Garrison's albums. Dean was pretty sure that they'd conceived to Castiel's moody voice.

So, Dean was more than a bit surprised to see the world's top rock star happen to show up in this club, which was not even close to Vegas' top tier of clubs. He was also shocked to see those same piercing blue eyes from the crowd tonight, watching him once again, as Dean gracefully bowed to his superior celebrity. The men and women, who'd only a moment ago been begging for a photo with Dean, were now flocked around Cas like he was the Messiah.

However, Castiel's penetrating gaze was glued on Dean, so Dean gave him a nod, and then went to grab Benny so they could start drinking. Dean didn't consume alcohol for over a month before a fight, so afterward he was always dying for a stiff drink. Especially when people threw around the R word—retirement—during his post bout euphoria.

“What's a prima donna like Castiel doing at this dive?” Benny asked, snapping a picture of the rock star just the same. Pam wasn't above having celebrity crushes even if she could probably break most of them in half. Benny had thrown his back out about six months ago, and while he insisted that he'd done it while training with Dean, Dean knew that Pam had probably been in the mood for some sort of acrobatic sex which Benny was quickly becoming too old for.

“Don't know, but that'll give us some relief,” Dean said, motioning to the bartender for two shots. He pointed to the top shelf scotch, and the woman in the barely there top gave him a quick nod.

Benny grunted his agreement. The bartender poured the shots and Dean took them one after the other while Benny ordered a seltzer. Benny had been dry since he met Pam. He used to drink before bouts and after, and if he'd been able to replace his water with vodka, he probably would've drunk during. Pam didn't take any shit though, and she'd told him that she wasn't going to watch him drink himself to death. Benny was a better guy to be around now, and he was one hell of a trainer. Dean figured that they were best friends because they understood each other's demons.

“Girl at two o'clock wants a dance, but she's too shy to ask,” Benny told him as they turned to face the club.

“Which one?” Dean asked, looking past Benny into the crowd.

“Blond hair, up in a strategically messy bun.”

“There are like twelve of those in that direction.”

“Pale blue top?”

“Gotcha. I'll be back,” Dean told him, patting Benny on the shoulder before introducing himself to the cute blond. She was there for her sister's bachelorette party, but all the rest of the girls were trying to get the bride laid by Castiel. Dean laughed at that as he pulled her against his body.

Considering how nimble he was in the cage, he wasn't the best dancer, but most women overlooked that. Dean danced with Erica for a while before returning to Benny. Benny usually had any number of possibilities lined up for him when he came back, and without fail, pointed to a beautiful redhead who was dancing with her friends.

“Couldn't take her eyes off you,” Benny promised before Dean went to introduce himself.

Ronnie was full of mischief, and Dean had a good time dancing with her. She even teased him about his lack of moves.

Dean forgot that a rock god was in the club as he moved around, dancing with anyone Benny approved of. That was was until the music cut out in the middle of a bass heavy song that had Dean's current partner doing all sorts of delicious moves to.

Dean's eyes immediately shot to Benny, but Benny gave him the everything's okay symbol. So, Dean waited with the rest of the crowd to see what was up. Then Castiel appeared in the hanging cage that some of the club's dancers usually worked on.

He had a mic and a guitar, and what looked like the intent to play them a song. Dean wasn't so sure that Castiel's songs were made for dancing, but then he remembered Pam talking about how great they were to have sex to.

“Oh my god, he's going to sing,” Dean's partner squealed, even as the crowd went crazy.

Seriously, how did the man have universal appeal? Teen girls loved him, Sam loved him, even Bobby admitted to listening to The Garrison. It wasn't natural. The man probably had a team of witches or made a deal with the Devil.

Then Castiel started to play. Dean had to admit that the guy knew how to play a guitar. The song was acoustic since the rest of the band wasn't there, but it still was driving and not bogged down by melancholy. Dean's partner started to dance again, and when Castiel began to sing, his smokey voice hit Dean right in the gut. No wonder people found Castiel's music great for having sex to—the man's voice was made of it.

He sang about taking a woman's clothes off, or at least that's what Dean thought he was singing about, because several women in the crowd offered to take their clothes of for him. The driving melody didn't let up, mimicking the rock and roll of sex perfectly, and by the time the song was over, Dean was hard as a rock against Tina, and he was considering buying the album that song was from just for posterity sake.

The whole club was buzzing with the energy Castiel brought to his music. Dean felt every note as he moved with the crowd. He was covered in sweat along with everyone else, but the whole experience was exhilarating. It was like being back in the cage.

Castiel played another song, this one more lively, and Dean found himself dancing with a pair of girls who were belting out the lyrics like they might die if they didn't. It was a good time, but Dean's eyes kept straying to the man singing and looking down on the crowd with sharp eyes.

“Castiel was watching you like he wanted to eat you alive,” Benny told Dean when he stumbled back for another drink. Dean wasn't drunk, just exhausted, but he wasn't going to make it much longer if he didn't want Benny to have to carry him back to his room. It rankled a little because he used to party until the sun came up, but that sort of behavior would just make retirement come that much faster.

Dean was chugging a glass of water when Benny elbowed him in the ribs. Dean choked, naturally, and sputtered as he went to chew Benny out. However, as he turned he found none other than Castiel standing right there in front of them.

Benny had somehow managed to maintain his cool demeanor, but then the last time Dean had seen Benny impressed was when Pam knocked him on his ass in the cage. That was three years ago. Even rock stars didn't impress Benny nowadays.

“I saw your fight,” Castiel said without introduction—Dean supposed introductions were a little redundant when you were one of the most famous people on the planet.

“Yeah? I kicked his ass, huh?” Dean said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his suit. Dean could be cool. He could also be a slob. Wasn't like he was trying to impress this guy.

“It was a bit anticlimactic, in my opinion. All that hype for a minute and thirty-seven seconds,” Castiel said.

Suddenly Dean's heckles were up. Castiel had no clue just how long a minute and thirty-seven seconds were when you were trading blows with a man just as qualified to fuck you up as you were to fuck him up.

“I don't see you getting in the octagon,” Dean retorted, flagging the bartender for another shot. Even complete strangers were giving him shit tonight.

“I'm sorry. I didn't say it wasn't impressive. I was very impressed by your power. I was just hoping to see it on display for a bit longer,” Castiel told him, and Dean would bet his career that he wasn't imagining just how sexual that sounded.

Dean looked at Benny, asking if Benny saw what was going on here just with his eyes. Benny gave him a look that said 'obviously.'

“Like watching men beat each other up?” Dean asked, trying to avoid the flirty tone of Castiel's comment.

“Depends on the men I suppose. I haven't seen too many fights. Just went on a whim tonight, was looking for some inspiration,” Cas said, nodding that Dean's drink was waiting for him.

“That right? Well, did you find what you were looking for?” Dean grabbed the shot and knocked it back. When he lowered his head again, Castiel was watching him with that unwavering gaze of his.

“Yes, I believe I did,” he told Dean. “It was good to meet you, Dean. Congratulations on your victory,” Cas said, excusing himself with a nod.

“What the hell was that about? I feel like I need a shower just from the way he watched me take that shot,” Dean said to Benny as Castiel disappeared into the crowd.

Benny whistled low, eyes following Cas' back.

“You ready to call it a night, chief?” Benny asked, finishing his cup of seltzer.

“Yeah, need some sleep,” Dean agreed. Normally, he'd bring a girl back with him, but right now he just wanted to get every last cube out of the ice machine and take an ice bath to sooth his joints.

Dean and Benny caught a cab back to their hotel, and Benny helped him fill the tub with plenty of ice. Then he set an alarm, so Dean couldn't fall asleep in it, and bid Dean a good night. Dean had only fallen asleep in an ice bath twice; once he had a bad concussion that had gone undiagnosed, and the other time he just crashed really hard after an intense bout.

Dean was just getting over the shocking cold of the bath when there was a hard knocking on his door. Dean groaned. Benny had a damn key, he could let himself back in if it was important.

When the knock came again, Dean cursed as he pulled himself out of the tub. He didn't bother drying off or putting on anymore clothes as he planned to get right back in as soon as he slammed the door in whoever's face it was.

Dean looked through the peephole and stepped back in confusion. “What the hell?” he muttered, pulling the door open to reveal Castiel.

Castiel stood out there in the same leather pants and linen shirt he'd been wearing at the club, his jaw covered in a 5 o'clock shadow that emphasized how sharp it was. His shirt was practically see-through from sweat and God only knew what else.

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?” Dean asked. Maybe the guy was high? That would explain the weird behavior.

“I had my bodyguard find out where you were staying. I have a proposition for you,” Castiel told him, leaning against the door frame like a cat.

“A proposition?” Dean asked, still dripping wet, covered in ice water and only a tiny pair of compression shorts. Dean was used to being close to naked in front of hundreds of people, but most of the time he couldn't see the way they looked at his body, unlike how he could see Castiel's eyes follow him like he was prey.

“Yes, I need inspiration for my next album, but I seem to have hit a creative wall. I was hoping you could help me,” Castiel said.

“How could _I_ help you?” Dean asked, trying to figure out what the hell Cas was up to. Dean didn't try to surround himself with stars just to inflate his own name. He knew plenty of fighters and celebrities that did, but as much as Dean loved doing what he did, he didn't need the celebrity that came with it. So, he wasn't really sure why Castiel sought him out.

“I was hoping we could talk inside. It's a sensitive topic,” Castiel told him, holding Dean's gaze.

The man was definitely intense—he could see how he put on quite a show when he funneled that charisma into a performance—and Dean ended up stepping back and waving Castiel into his suite.

Cas walked in, glancing around as he did. Dean shut his door, and looked into the melting ice bath before going to the couch Castiel was making himself at home on. Dean grabbed a towel to wrap around his hips, so he didn't ruin the expensive furniture. By the time he reached him, Castiel had his boots kicked up on the coffee table and was staring up at the ceiling.

“This room has a good feel to it. The penthouse I'm in is a little to open. Feels kinda vacant, you know?” Castiel asked him.

Honestly, as long as the suite had a semi comfortable bed and a semi clean tub, Dean didn't care if it was the size of a closet.

“Next time, stay in a regular suite instead of the penthouse. So, what's this sensitive proposition you need to discuss? Because I've got a bath full of melting ice and some classic rock to get back to.” Dean asked, taking the couch across from Castiel.

“I want you to help me with my album,” Castiel told him like it made any sort of sense at all. Dean wasn't even a good singer. Sure he sang along to the radio like everyone else, but he was smart enough to keep that shit in his car unless he was drunk and someone dragged him to karaoke.

“I find that hard to believe,” Dean told him, getting up to get himself a beer. He figured that he was going to need one if he was hearing out Castiel's plan. “Want one?” Dean asked, raising a bottle.

Castiel nodded, looking as intense as when Dean first opened the door.

“I don't need help writing the songs, Dean. I need what you have.”

“And what's that?” Dean handed over the bottle, but Castiel grabbed his wrist with his other hand. Dean countered the grab in a heartbeat, and Castiel got a heady expression on his face like Dean had just proved some mysterious point.This guy was out of his mind.

“I'm interested in power dynamics, Dean, and you certainly have power,” Castiel told him, taking a pull of his beer.

“Power dynamics? Like in the bedroom?” Dean asked, letting go of Castiel's hand and stepping back.

“Exactly. I want to be at your mercy. I want you in control of me, my pleasure, my everything,” Castiel told him, putting his feet down and sitting up.

Dean choked on his drink for the second time that night. “You're fucking serious.”

Castiel nodded.

“Like S&M kind of shit? You want me to get freaky with you, for the sake of your next album?” Dean asked, completely failing to wrap his head around the request.

“Well, yes. I could write songs about power dynamics, but they'd ring false. I prefer to experience everything I sing about,” Castiel explained.

A memory of Sam telling him that Jess was making them take classes on tantric sex after hearing The Garrison's previous album popped into Dean's head. “That's very method of you, Brando, but what makes you even think I'd be into that sort of thing?”

“You're a fighter. You must enjoy having power if you spend that much of your time training to take it away from other people,” Castiel said.

Dean paused at that. Yes, he did enjoy power and having control, but that was in the cage. He didn't go out of his way to boss everyone around in his everyday life. Or at least he tried not to. Dean didn't think he was power hungry. He certainly never thought of being so in the bedroom.

“Doesn't everyone like having control?”

“I don't know. I've always preferred to be out of control,” Castiel remarked, and Dean didn't really doubt that with the way this guy was propositioning a complete stranger to tie him up or something.

“Even if I like that stuff, what makes you think I want to have sex with you or torture you or whatever it is you have in mind?” Dean was tearing the label off his bottle just thinking about the implications.

Castiel gave him a look that said that he believed that everyone wanted to have sex with him, and Dean guessed that that wasn't too far off, if the people Dean knew were any indication. Once again, Dean had never given it any thought. Though if he'd seen Cas perform before tonight, he couldn't say that would still be true.

“I only know what I saw in your fight tonight, Dean, and what I saw made me think that you were the person I wanted to give control to. Whether you say yes or not is a different story.”

“I can't be gay,” Dean said, instead of entertaining the possibility of putting rock god Castiel on his knees. If he thought about that too long, he just might agree to it.

“I never said you were gay, Dean. Honestly, you wouldn't even need to unclothe yourself if that's how you wanted to play.”

“No, you don't understand. I _cannot_ be gay. My career would be over if I started having sex with men. Everyone wants to beat the gay guy up, but no one wants to lose to one. I'd never get another fight in my life,” Dean told him, unable to believe he was actually thinking about this. However, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the tattoo peeking out of Castiel's loose shirt, and a very primal part of him wanted to tear that shirt off to get a good look. Witches. This guy definitely had a team of witches working for him.

“I promise I am very discreet. It's not like I'd be naming a song after you.”

“You'd just be writing about me tying you up and spanking you.”

“If that's what you want to do to me, I'm sure there's a song in there somewhere,” Cas told him. The man had quite the dry sense of humor. Dean wasn't sure Castiel's word was good enough to risk his career on. Dean didn't know the guy from Adam, and he wanted Dean to trust him with his entire livelihood. Dean had seen the way people responded when athletes came out. It wasn't pretty. Dean didn't really want to risk his legend becoming the gay guy ousted from the league as opposed to just one of the top fighters in the league. He wished it wasn't that way. He wished no one gave a shit, but he'd been in the game long enough to know how it worked. It was disappointing, devastating really, but that's the way it was.

“I can't believe I'm having this conversation,” he said, still unable to shake what Cas was proposing.

“You're considering my offer.”

“Probably because I took a couple knocks to the head tonight. This is just a hallucination,” Dean said, getting up to grab another beer. No, make that a scotch.

“How often do you have hallucinations of musicians offering to be your sex slave for a few days?” Castiel asked him.

“Clearly, not often enough,” Dean said, downing an airplane bottle in one go. Cheap stuff, but no less effective.

“Do you have any thoughts other than how ridiculous the proposition is coming from me?” Castiel asked him, watching him drink out of the second bottle like Dean was a particularly delectable piece of meat.

“Why me?”

“I went to see your fight on a whim, but when you were in the cage there was no contest. Even before it began, you were the one on top. It was...intoxicating to watch. I want to experience that. I want to face you and know that I am completely at your mercy, and trust you to make it good,” Castiel explained, like watching the match was somehow similar to watching a burlesque show.

“You want me to beat you up; you can step into the cage with me. I don't hit my lovers.”

“Even if they want you to?”

“If that's what they want, they need to find someone else,” Dean told him, anger rising in his blood. He wasn't a brute. Fighting was his job; it wasn't his life.He'd worked damn hard so that the rest of his life wasn't as bloody and brutal as his time in the cage.

“Lucky I don't want you to beat me up then, just punish me when I deserve it,” Cas retorted.

The guy was too smart for his own good. Dean felt like he was in a game of chess, but he didn't even know the rules. He couldn't claim he wasn't interested. He just didn't know how he found himself in this situation.

“I need to get back in the tub before all the ice melts,” Dean told him.

“Think about the offer. This is my private line if you want to take me up on it or discuss it more. I'll be in Vegas for the week, but I'm not against flying to you afterward if you change your mind,” Castiel held out a business card, very professional for a man that sang about tantric orgasms.

“Yeah, I'll do that,” Dean told him, walking him to the door. Before he could open it though, Castiel pulled him in. It was very telegraphed, and Dean wasn't sure if he was looking to get man handled again, but Dean didn't give in to that instinct, going with it instead. He wasn't entirely surprised by the kiss, and he didn't pull back.

Castiel kissed the same way he sang—purely sexual, and with more passion than most people had in them. His tongue slipped between Dean's lips and begged Dean to play along with teasing probes. Dean gave in and pushed Castiel back against the door, pressed his leg between Cas', and took control of the kiss.

When Dean eventually did pull back, Castiel's eyes were glazed, his shirt had fallen open even more, and Dean got a good view of the tattoo over his heart. It depicted a man about to walk off a cliff, eyes raised to the sky as he took the final step. Written beneath it was The Fool. Dean recognized it as a Tarot card, but he didn't know it's meaning. It wasn't hard to infer that Cas saw himself as the Fool though. The whole image was encased in an intricate vine design complete with thorns—as though to protect it.

“You should probably go,” Dean told him, knowing his knees would be hell in the morning if he ended up having sex with Castiel instead of icing them.

“You should probably call me,” Castiel replied, opening the door and slipping through it.

Dean doubted that was a wise choice, but that kiss had been a pretty good incentive. If sex with Castiel was anything like that kiss, Dean could do with a week of that.

Dean staggered to the tub where the alarm was going off to remind him to wake up and get out. Dean reset it, and lowered himself into the water. That cured his erection pretty damn fast, but it didn't help how breathless Dean was just thinking about the ink that covered Castiel's skin or the way he threw himself into lovemaking even if it was only with a kiss.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was in an interview with one of the premiere sports magazines, nodding along as the guy listed off his stats. Dean was aware of his stats. He didn't need them read to him during every interview.

“You seem to be getting better and better, Dean. What keeps you fresh and coming back?” the guy—Josh, Dean thought his name was—asked.

“I guess I just like the power that comes with stepping into the cage,” Dean found himself answering, immediately thinking to what Castiel had told him last night.

“A power trip, yeah?” Josh said, clearly not getting it at all.

“It's not a trip. It's not being out of your head with it. It's power over yourself to face down all the doubts you've had in training. It's taking control of yourself,” Dean told him. He didn't know why, because his sound bites were rarely that long.

The interviewer ran with that explanation, trying to get Dean to reveal the kinds of doubts he had, but Dean kept tight lipped. He never admitted any weakness. If they wanted to talk ambitions and stats that was fine. Dean wasn't here to feed speculation about his weaknesses and when they'd lead to the end of his career.

Dean didn't know why he punched in Castiel's number when he left the interview, but he did.

“What would this proposition entail?” Dean asked as soon as Castiel's smooth voice answered.

“Hello, Dean. I'm pleased that you called,” Castiel told him, sounding just that, pleased.

“What's it involve? Do I need handcuffs or something?” Dean asked sliding into his black '67 Impala because he refused to take a cab around the strip. He spent enough time fixing her up: he was going to drive her.

“Are you planning to arrest me?” Castiel asked, and he sounded completely serious, but Dean knew when he was being made fun of.

“Look, none of my partners have ever complained,” Dean told him, pulling out onto the strip. There were plenty of sex shops that he could stop in. They wouldn't ask questions, and they'd be discreet.

“I have no doubt your partners are completely satisfied, Dean. Come to my suite, and we'll decide what we want. I'll have it delivered,” Castiel told him.

“Your penthouse isn't going to be discreet,” Dean said.

“I assure you that no one will know you're visiting me, or what it is we're doing,” Castiel promised, and Dean must be going insane because he made an illegal U-turn and headed for Castiel's hotel.

Castiel's bodyguard met Dean in the parking garage and handed off the key to Dean before walking in a different direction. Dean shoved the key into the slot in the elevator once he stepped inside, and tapped his foot all the way to the top floor.

When the doors opened, Dean understood what Castiel meant when he said the penthouse was a little too much to feel comfortable. Dean's condo didn't come close to this place; there was a massive fountain in front of the elevator with a naked woman pouring water into the well of it.

Castiel was nowhere in sight, but Dean figured that the man might have gotten lost in a closet that led to another dimension or something. Dean walked around the fountain and straight to one of several bars, helping himself to a glass of seltzer. He figured he would take a page out of Benny's book until he figured out what the hell he was getting himself into.

Castiel came out of one of the suites wearing a pair of faded, torn jeans and no shirt. Dean felt his eyebrows inch up as he took in the expanse of tattoos that covered Castiel's torso and arms. He'd been impressed with the one last night, but he hadn't imagined all of these.

Castiel had two half sleeves covering his biceps; one was a depiction of heaven's army with Michael and his sword and Gabriel sounding the horn. The other sleeve depicted hell with Lucifer surrounded by demons and dreadful creatures. It was stunning, especially the contrast in colors.

His chest was covered in what Dean assumed was album art. He recognized one of the designs from one of Jess' CDs. It all fit together perfectly like all of his albums came together to form something bigger.

Castiel seemed oblivious to Dean's scrutiny. He carried a bottle of water in one hand and a tablet in the other. His dark hair was mussed up like he'd just had sex...before his discussion of them having sex. Dean started to wonder if this guy had regular orgies just because he thought they were like religious experiences.

“You came,” Castiel said, taking a seat on the baroque looking love seat.

“I did. Not sold on it being a good idea yet,” Dean answered, sipping his seltzer.

“Would you like some gin to go with that?” Castiel asked.

“I'm fine with seltzer,” Dean told him.

“Probably for the best. We have a lot to discuss.”

“Like what?”  
“Preferences, safe words, toys, scenes, quite a bit,” Castiel said, bringing his tablet to life with a sleek stylus.

That was a lot, and not for the first time, Dean wondered what he was getting himself into.

“Sex has never been so complicated. Even that time with the shower that was just a hair too small and the girl that was just a hair too short,” Dean said, pressing the cool glass to his forehead.

“I take my music seriously. I don't half-ass my inspiration,” Castiel told him, holding up the tablet. A sex toy site took up the whole screen. “Any preferences on toys?” Castiel asked.

Dean didn't have a clue. He just shrugged. Castiel seemed to take that as a challenge to find something Dean didn't want.

“These restraints have a high rating, and this spreader bar looks sturdy but comfortable enough,” Castiel said, bringing up different products in tabs.

“That's fine,” Dean agreed. So long as he wasn't going to be in them, he didn't care what Cas preferred.

Castiel brought up several more products that Dean gave the okay to. Then he held up a picture of a massive dildo.

“Cas that's twelve inches and rainbow colored. I'm packin', but I'm not packin' that. Doesn't it seem a bit...excessive?” Dean asked, trying to wrap his head around fitting that into someone's body.

“I suppose. We only have a week after all. How about a smaller one in rainbow?”

“No.”

“How about rainbow colored anal beads?”

“If you get a rainbow dildo or anything else, you can shove it up your own ass along with this entire crazy plan and get the hell out of my face,” Dean told him. He knew Castiel was trying to wind him up, but Dean really couldn't handle a rainbow colored silicon dong. It would take him right out of the moment. Seriously, how did anyone even hold one of those without bursting out laughing?

“Well, at least you have an opinion on something. I suppose were can just go with purple.”

“Don't they have neutral colors?”

“Would you prefer brown anal beads?”

“ _ Another _ neutral color?”

Castiel sighed. “Black and white are so boring when you can have florescent colored sex toys,” Cas told him.

“You want to stick them in yourself, go right ahead and get whatever color you want, but if you want me to be able to keep a straight face, get something that looks... _ normal _ ,” Dean said, running his hand over his face. When they wrote his biography, he was going to have to read it very carefully to understand how he had ended up in this situation.

“Dean, there is nothing 'normal' about a twelve inch dildo with a suction base, so you can get the proper leverage to fuck yourself silly,” Castiel informed him, and Dean was starting to think there was nothing normal about Castiel either.

“Should I get the vibrator with three speeds or ten?” Castiel asked, tilting his head at the screen like it fascinated him. Dean was almost afraid to look since this whole process mystified him, but he moved to sit next to Castiel, so he could look with him.

Dean tilted his head too because that was all sorts of weird. “Why not buy both? I mean what's the point of making millions if you can't throw it away on mind boggling sex toys? Maybe a track about that thing will make the B side,” Dean said.

“True,” Castiel agreed before picking up his phone and calling someone. “Hi, I have an order that I need the utmost discretion with, and I need it delivered in the next hour,” Castiel said to the person on the other end of the line. Castiel ironed out the delivery, which was not to the hotel but a laundromat just off the strip, and then he described his security guard as the recipient. When the details were taken care of , Castiel listed off each product they wanted with the addition of three different kinds of lube, and he asked them to throw in a few surprises to go with the purchase.

When he hung up, he leaned into Dean's space. “My safe word is Garrison,” he said in a whispered breath.

“Your band? Seriously?”

“Why not? It's a word I'll never forget, but I'm not likely to say in the middle of sex. Trust me, I wouldn't want to have sex with you if you only wanted to talk about my band while we did it,” Castiel told him, leaning even further into his space. “Yours?”

Dean tried to think. Garrison was actually a really good one. Dean had never thought about this sort of thing before. In the cage, if things were bad, you tapped out, but Dean didn't think that was a solid plan for the bedroom.

“Impala,” Dean said, leaning back because Castiel looked like he was about to crawl into his lap.

“Like the animal?”

“Like a Chevy Impala. It's my car. 1967. A fuckin' classic,” Dean told him.

“Okay. What turns you on, Dean?” Cas asked him, this time straddling his lap. Dean could feel that he was hard in his pants, and he didn't stop himself from placing his hands on Cas' hips. He thumbed at Castiel's hipbones which stuck out just above the waist of his pants.

“Oh you know, loose women, fast cars...”

“No. What turns you on that you don't like to admit to people?” Castiel asked him, grinding down against his lap. Dean sucked in a breath and tried to think. Right now, Castiel's tattoos and his unwavering gaze were turning Dean on something fierce.

“I'll go first,” Cas told him, leaning in to speak against his ear. His erection pressed against Dean's stomach as he rested his hand on Dean's shoulder. “The thought of being restrained, either held down or tied up, turns me on.”

“Guess it's good you bought those restraints then,” Dean joked. It was a defense mechanism because Dean was now as hard as Cas was, and he hadn't expected that.

“Your turn.” Cas prompted him.

“Listening to you talk about being tied up is turning me on.” At least he was being honest. His brain was a little too fried at the moment to think about much more that Cas' dick pressing against him.

“That's cheating, but I like this game, so I'll go again anyway,” Cas told him, grinding against his erection and causing them both to gasp. There was no denying they were attracted to each other. “Being completely at your mercy turns me on. Not being allowed to talk without permission, move without permission, come without permission,” Castiel said, nipping at Dean's ear to emphasize each item.

“You're crazy, Cas. You don't even know me.”

“I'm getting to know you. I know you get hard at the thought of tying me down. That seems like a good start.”

“ _ Crazy _ .”

“Stop avoiding your turn.”

Dean tried to think again. Cas was very distracting, and he totally knew it too, undulating his body slowly against Dean's.

“The thought of you on your knees turns me on,” Dean told him, grasping at the first thought that came to him. It wasn't a lie. That thought had turned him on even after his ice bath last night.

“What will I be doing down there?” Castiel asked.

“Anything I tell you to,” Dean told him, getting the hang of the game slowly.

“What will I be wearing?”

“Maybe just that collar I heard you sneak into our order.”

“I like the sound of that,” Castiel said, dipping in to suck at Dean's neck. Dean groaned loudly as Cas bit him, then soothed the pain with a kiss.

“Your turn,” Dean told him, holding Cas steady as he moved faster in Dean's lap.

“The thought of you in me while I'm completely immobile,” Castiel said, hips suddenly jerking. Cas went ridged in his arms for a moment before Dean began to feel wetness against his stomach where Cas' come seeped into his pants.

“That really does it for you, huh?” Dean asked, rubbing Cas' back, not knowing what he would prefer.

“Yes, what does it for you, Dean?”

Cas started to rock his hips against Dean's erection again as Dean thought about it. Dean had never thought too much about kinks. He'd always been pretty happy with what he did, but now thinking about the world of possibilities he'd looked up the night before, Dean felt like a kid at a candy store.

“I think watching you get off thinking about me is pretty high up there. Maybe tied down with that vibrating tentacle thing neither of us understands in you, nothing touching your cock, just the anticipation getting you so turned on,” Dean told him, and it was Cas' filthy moan that put Dean over the edge.

Dean came in his jeans for the first time since he was a teenager, but it was totally worth it as he watched Cas continue to writhe in his lap like he was getting off again. Maybe he was. Maybe that tantric stuff really did pay off.

Dean watched the rise and fall of Cas' chest as Castiel seemed to drift for a few minutes. They were both roused when the elevator dinged, and Cas' bodyguard stepped out carrying a massive package in his arms.

“That was fast. Thank you, Uriel,” Castiel said, getting off of Dean's lap a lot slower than Dean would've preferred for his reputation's sake. However, Castiel's bodyguard didn't look the least bit interested in what they were doing. He handed the package over to Castiel, then told him that if he needed anything he'd be in the bar.

Dean held his comment about drinking on the job because something told him that this guy was always on his toes. Castiel thanked him, seemingly uncaring about the giant come stain on the front of his pants. Dean couldn't help but wonder what other things the poor man had witnessed that made this seemed like nothing at all.

Castiel brought the package over as his guard disappeared into the elevator again. Instead of opening it right away, he put it aside and continued with their meeting like they hadn't just spent the “getting to know each other's preferences portion” getting each other off.

“Is there anything you refuse to do?” Castiel asked, going to sit in the seat that Dean had vacated earlier.

“Um, knives and blood stuff?”

“Probably for the best,” Castiel agreed. “Anything else?”

“Body fluids in general. I mean other than come. That's bound to be involved, but other ones not so much,” Dean said. “I get covered in bodily fluids enough in bouts, not something I want in bed.”

“Yes, I've been puked on by fans before. It was less than pleasant,” Castiel said, tapping away at his tablet.

“How about you?”

Castiel didn't say anything for a moment, just stared down at the tablet. “I prefer not to be taunted,” he said at last. “You can say things to me, but if I don't do something right, I prefer not to be taunted for it. Punishment is fine.”

“Okay, I can handle that. What else?” Dean asked, suddenly feeling the weight of this start to settle in. He was going to be in charge of another person's mental and emotional well being, not just their orgasm. That was a lot of responsibility for a man who was all about loving and leaving.

Castiel thought some more. Dean watched the way he stared at his hands. “Isolation.”

“No isolation.”

“Yes, please don't leave me in a room for an hour as punishment or play.”

Dean was getting the feeling he was being given a very vague view of Castiel's past as they spoke, and it only made the situation seem that much heavier. “I promise not to leave you isolated. I'm not really patient enough for that kind of shit anyway,” Dean told him with a small smile. He was relieved when Castiel returned it. “You got anything else I should know not to do?” Dean asked when Castiel didn't say anything right away.

“I injured my back in a concert last year, so extended play where my back is arched may be difficult, but I'll let you know if it's hurting,” Castiel told him.

Dean made a mental note not to put him in that position at all since his reading mentioned that Castiel might not be able to distinguish if he was in pain or hurting if he was deep in subspace. Dean felt like he was getting a crash course in something he actually needed a four year degree in before practicing it.

“You look very deep in thought,” Castiel said, and Dean heard the amusement there.

“Before this, the only time I'd heard about BDSM was when my brother called me in horror after finding my sister-in-law's copy of  _ Fifty Shades of Grey _ under their bed. He read me a passage and asked if she expected him to do that shit to her. Not exactly a thorough knowledge base,” Dean admitted.

“No, I suspect not. We'll start slow,” Castiel told him.

“We've only got a week.”

“We'll just have to learn fast,” Castiel said, shrugging as he looked back at his tablet. “Aftercare. I will want to write when we finished. That's just how I work. I like to do it immediately, so I'd prefer it if you weren't all over me or constantly talking. I'd prefer it if you stay, maybe we could share a meal when I'm finished, but interruptions will just slow me down if I'm writing,” Castiel said.

“Okay. Not big on post coital cuddling. Noted,” Dean said, trying to make it a joke. He wasn't sure what he personally needed after this sort of thing, so he went with Castiel's requests. If it wasn't working, they'd change it. He made that clear, and Castiel agreed to that stipulation.

Dean was still having trouble wrapping his head around this. He wasn't sure why he agreed to do it. He wanted to. Dean could admit that to himself, but he'd wanted things in the past that he'd walked away from. He'd walked away from a woman he thought he might marry because his career didn't really make for a stable home life—always wondering if he'd come home with a fractured skull, or if he'd be on crutches for months.

Dean had walked away from opportunities and people alike, and he couldn't say what was different this time. Maybe he was getting old. Chances to have kinky sex with a complete stranger living in a penthouse weren't going to be coming along forever.

Then maybe it was Castiel. The man was so secure in his sexuality that he'd propositioned Dean right after he'd seen him knock another man out. That took balls of steel. He had no way of knowing Dean wouldn't punch him out too for suggesting he was anything but straight. He hadn't even brought his bodyguard. Castiel was something else.

“So Dean, what do you say? Will you explore the beauty of power dynamics with me for the sake of musical inspiration?” Castiel asked, breaking Dean's train of thought.

“Yeah, I guess I will even though this is completely crazy,” Dean told him.

“No more crazy than making your living beating people up for others to watch...or making music,” Castiel told him, getting up and lifting the package off the coffee table. “This is for you.”

“Don't you mean it's for you?” Dean asked, looking at the sealed box.

“Only if you decide for it to be,” Castiel told him, sitting back once Dean accepted the box. Castiel was clearly diving into this with the determination of a marathon runner. He was seeing this through to the end, and he wasn't looking back.

Dean only hoped that this little adventure wasn't a disaster for both of them. Dean had done all sorts of bizarre favors in his life, including stealing a pair of cows from a man who'd stolen all of his wife's savings. What she'd gotten for the animals was enough to get her started again.

However, this might just take the cake on crazy favors. He couldn't say he wasn't intrigued, but he certainly didn't know what to expect.

“I need a shower. You can look through the box while I'm washing off if you like. I won't be long,” Castiel told him, and Dean just nodded.

He went through the contents of the box slowly, reading directions when available. There were six butt plugs of varying sizes and colors, though thankfully none were rainbow colored or sparkled. There were  several vibrators, and he still couldn't exactly figure out the one they'd both been confused by online. There were cuffs and restraints, dildos, lube for different sensations, blind folds, crops, paddles. Dean was overwhelmed by the sheer number of devices Castiel had purchased. He was also a little shocked by the size of some of them.

Castiel had seemed completely willing to try just about anything Dean threw at him. Dean still couldn't believe Cas was putting this kind of trust in a man who knocked another man out cold the first time he saw him.

When Castiel came back from his shower, he was back in a pair of leather pants and had a cigarette dangling from his lips. “You mind?” he asked, looking around for his lighter.

“Go ahead,” Dean told him, tossing over the lighter he always carried on him.

Castiel seemed relieved when Dean agreed, and he wasted no time lighting up and inhaling deeply. “When we started out, they told me it would be great for the image if I smoked. Now, I can't kick the damn things, and every tour gets harder and harder,” Cas told him, collapsing onto the love seat again. “So, when you want to get started? We're on your schedule. I'm here for pleasure, business too but writing's done on my time, no one else's,” Castiel told him.

“I have an event this evening. Just a cocktail hour. I'm assuming you're a night owl? We could do it when I get back from that,” Dean offered, holding up a massive dildo. “Thought we said that 12 inches was excessive?”

“It's not rainbow colored.”

“It's still massive.”

“It's still only going in me.”

“Fine, but I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't.”

Dean shook his head. “I should get going,” Dean said, glancing at the time. It was later than he expected, and he needed to shower after their impromptu frottage session.

“Tonight, my place or yours?” Castiel asked, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

“Yours, no point making you carry all the dongs over to mine,” Dean told him, getting up.

“I'll see you tonight. Take the key with you,” Castiel told him, waving him off. Dean nodded and left the way he'd come. This was turning into the most surreal trip to Vegas of his life.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“He wants me to dominate him,” Dean said, taking his third shot in a row as he sat in Benny's hotel room, waiting for Benny to iron both of their suit shirts. Dean was perfectly capable of ironing his own clothing, but Benny had more patience for it, and he also wasn't having a crisis over the fact that he'd just entered into a pseudo relationship with Castiel, a man so famous he only went by one name like he was fucking Madonna or Cher.

“Thought you had a strict 'no  masochists' policy,” Benny said, sounding unconcerned about the whole thing.

“He doesn't want me to beat him up, just to...control him?” Dean said, swirling the liquid around in his rocks glass.

“And you don't want to?”

“Didn't say that,” Dean told him.

“Then what's the problem?” Benny asked, holding up Dean's shirt for approval. Dean gave him the thumbs up and took the shirt from him, pulling it on.

“It's just crazy. We don't even know each other.”

“People have sex with complete strangers all the time. You should know that better than most.” Benny pointed out, starting his own shirt, which wasn't nearly as wrinkled as Dean's had been.

“Just seems like the kind of thing you do with someone you  _ know _ you can trust. Not someone you want to believe you can trust.”

“He's giving you that power, so that sounds like it's on you not to fuck it up. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy that's going to use this as emotional blackmail. He's never mentioned lovers by name or description before. He doesn't have crazy exes claiming horrible things. Maybe he suppresses that stuff, but you'd hear something if he was a scumbag. Someone would squeal. So, have some fun, then go stay with your brother, and leave it in the past as a crazy time in Vegas,” Benny told him, donning his own shirt.

“Yeah, I guess so. It's not weird, him being a dude and all? Or you know, him wanting me to tie him up and shit?” Dean asked, pouring one last glass for the road.

“Dean, I've got more demons than most. I can't judge anyone for their choices. If you're doing this because you're afraid to say no to a guy like Castiel, then I got a problem with it. If you're doing it because as crazy as it sounds, it also sounds like a good time, then I don't give a shit about who it's with, unless they're underage.”

“I'll remember that one,” Dean said, shaking his head.

They took a cab to the event, and this time Dean wasn't rescued from posing for pictures by Castiel. Dean figured he owed Cas for getting him out of picture duty the night before. Dean didn't mind meeting fans or just people in general, but the endless flashes of light were disorienting on the best of days, especially when he had a lowkey concussion which, thankfully, was not the case today.

Benny took it in stride like everything else. He stood next to Dean cutting in when questions got too personal or off topic. Any time Dean was asked about why he didn't arrive with a date to these things, he joked that he preferred to spend time with all the ladies present and not limit himself to one.

Benny always laughed at his playboy routine. Truth was that Dean wasn't taking too many women home lately, and coming in his pants with Castiel was the most action he'd gotten in a while. Dean still had it. He was just getting tired of it all. One night stands were exhausting, and he got little sleep as it was. He was getting old which wasn't something he liked to think about at thirty-five.

His phone vibrated as he spoke with one reporter. Dean checked it as he moved down the line.

_ —How do you want me when you arrive?”—Cas _

Dean bit his lip. Was the guy actually sexting him at a professional event? Dean glanced back at the screen. Yes, he definitely was.

_ —On your knees. _

Dean replied, not sure what he could really say to that question without coming off as an asshole.

He felt his pocket vibrate again as he spoke to another journalist.

“Is that your girlfriend?” she asked when he glanced at the cover screen to make sure it was just Castiel again.

“Afraid I'm single, darling,” Dean told her. She flirted back, and he really hoped most of it didn't end up in the final product.

He checked the text as they got off the carpet and walked into the event.

_ —What do you want me wearing? _

Dean bit his lip. He wanted to say nothing. That would make things easier, but this wasn't about easy. He had no doubt that Castiel would drop every stitch of clothes and fall to his knees if Dean wanted it, but Castiel wanted Dean to take control. He wanted Dean to put him on his knees, not just ask for it and be done with it.

_ —No shirt, and pants you don't mind ruining. _

Dean didn't get any more texts after that. He was grateful because just those two short ones were making him uncomfortably hard. Benny was laughing his ass off, having read them over Dean's shoulder. Dean wanted to be mad, but this whole thing was still too crazy. At least Benny's laughter proved he wasn't out of his mind and dreaming the whole thing up.

Dean rubbed shoulders with the right people, plugged the correct products, remembered who he was wearing, and he did it all with a smile. He deserved a fucking Oscar for his performance.

By the time the cab pulled into the garage of Castiel's hotel, Dean was ready to cut loose. Benny told him not to get into too much trouble as he stepped out of the car, and Dean flipped him off. He hooked his suit coat on his finger and flipped it over his shoulder as he sauntered into the resort.

He played a few games of craps, throwing away just enough money that he felt he'd done his job of supporting the casino industry. When he finished his drink, he kissed the girl gripping his bicep as he played, and handed her a hundred dollar bill to see if she could hit the jackpot.

Dean found his way to the elevator. As the doors closed, Dean's mind filled with the possibilities that awaited him upstairs in the penthouse suite. Maybe this idea of Castiel's was a good one. Maybe it was just what he needed to change things up, get his grove back.

Dean didn't have too long to dwell on it as the elevator reached the top floors. The bell dinged as the doors slid open. The apartment was dimly lit in what Dean supposed was mood lighting—he'd never been too big on all that stuff. He'd much rather get right down to it than spruce it up with fancy shit that didn't do anything.

However, Castiel was a star. He probably had all sorts of rituals and demands.

Dean looked around, but once again Castiel wasn't in the foyer upon his arrival. He didn't expect it. He hadn't asked Castiel to wait for him. It just may have been nice to have gotten the tour that afternoon, so he knew where things were.

However, before Dean could go on a hunting expedition to find Castiel, the man himself walked out of one of the attached suites. He was smoking again, and he looked like he'd just taken another shower.

He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his damp hair stuck up in tufts. His leather pants were black, low slung, and looked soft from years of wear. Dean wasn't so sure he wanted to ruin something that hugged Cas' body so beautifully.

Castiel looked determined. Maybe he saw this a bit like a performance that he had to rock. Dean wasn't sure where his head was at, but he held out his hand for Cas to come to him.

“You aren't on your knees,” Dean remarked.

“You have no idea how hard it is to get on your knees in tight leather pants,” Castiel retorted. His smile said he hadn't even tried, but the mental image was enough to put a smile on Dean's face as well.

“Already looking to be punished?” Dean asked, remembering their conversation about rewards and punishments. This was all so new to him. He supposed that they'd figure it out together.

“I've always been a little rebellious,” Castiel told him, stepping into Dean's space.

Dean laughed. He had no doubt that Castiel had given his parents palpitations. Dean gripped the button front of Castiel's pants, and he kept eye contact as he popped each button. Cas smiled at him.

“Ever done this with a man before?” Cas asked him.

“I've never done  _ this _ with anyone. I've had sex with guys before, but that's strictly off the record,” Dean told him, undoing the third of four buttons. He could already feel that Castiel wasn't wearing underwear beneath the pants. The man was definitely into sex. “How about you?”

“Other than the odd orgy and a few blowjobs on the road, no I haven't. I've let women peg me though,” Castiel told him. He said it so casually, as though women just carried strapons around in their purses. Though with the size of some of the purses Dean had seen, he wondered if maybe some of them did.

Dean paused on the last button. He was trying to imagine Castiel letting a women nail him to the bed with a rainbow colored strap-on. He was ashamed that he had no trouble picturing it, or maybe Castiel should be ashamed.

“You ready?” Dean asked, undoing the last button.

“I'm always ready,” Castiel promised, shimmying his hips just enough that his cock freed itself from the confines of his pants. Dean immediately grasped it, but he didn't stroke him. Cas hadn't earned that yet.

“Then you should probably lose the pants,” Dean told him, gripping the waist of them and pulling that down Castiel's thighs.

Dean didn't pull them off all the way, instead pushing Cas down onto his knees, legs trapped together by the half off pants. Cas fell to them, and looked up at Dean. His eyes shining with interest as Dean exerted control.

Dean undid the front of his pants and pulled his own erection from the confines of the slacks. He buried his hand in Castiel's hair and held his head still. He looked him in the eye as he brought his cock to Castiel's lips.

Dean could feel the aching in his gut from how good Castiel looked there. Castiel bit his bottom lip, waiting for Dean to do something, but Dean just stood there. He wanted to see if Castiel could wait or if he was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. That wasn't going to be how this worked, but he needed to see what he was dealing with.

Castiel licked his sore lip when Dean didn't make a move. His tongue swept out over and over, but it didn't cross the scant space to where Dean's cock hung. Dean smiled at him as he closed the space, pressing the head of his erection to Castiel's lips, but not into his mouth.

Castiel didn't swallow him down. Instead he waited for Dean's instruction. Dean could do this. This wasn't as hard as he thought it would be.

“Kiss it,” Dean told him, shaking his cock for good measure. “Like you would your grandmother, not a groupie,” He added.

Castiel pressed the lightest of kisses to the head, watching Dean the entire time. Dean smiled when he immediately pulled back just enough to show that he had no intention of disobeying Dean's order.

Dean tightened his grip on Castiel's hair. “Can you take it all?” he asked.

Castiel nodded, but Dean pulled his hair a little.

“Yes.” Castiel's voice was raw, and they hadn't even done anything yet. Just the sound of it sent a pulse straight to Dean's dick.

“Do it.”

Castiel took him down to the root, opening his throat and moaning around Dean's erection. Dean's legs almost gave out. He hadn't been expecting Castiel to actually take the whole thing, but he had, and his moans were sending bolts of lightning up Dean's spine.

Dean cursed, pulling Castiel's head back. Castiel went easily, saliva dripping from his lips. Dean cursed again looking at him. Even on his knees and at Dean's mercy, he looked like a god. Maybe he really was one because the way he looked up at Dean made him feel humbled. Dean was convinced that nothing looked bad on Castiel.

“Touch yourself,” Dean told him, and Castiel quickly followed the direction, wrapping his elegant fingers around his cock. Castiel had a good looking dick. It was proportionate to the man, not too big but by no means small. Dean had no doubt he knew how to use it. Just the way his fingers glided over it in slow strokes told of a man who knew how to maintain his pleasure for the long haul.

“Don't stop stroking yourself,” Dean told him, tucking himself back into his pants. He walked around Castiel to the coffee table where the box of toys still rested. It was hell to step away from the show, but he had an idea.

Dean removed one of the blindfolds from the box, he tore open the package and headed back to Cas. Dean actually gasped when he saw the tattoos on Castiel's back. Lifelike wings adorned his shoulder blades, but they were broken and the left one was torn off at the stump. The right was inked like it was tucked to his body, but it was bloody and missing feathers. Below the missing wing there were also realistic looking gashes, like something had torn into Castiel's flesh. It was a gruesome portrait, but it was also stunning.

Dean approached slowly, reaching around Castiel's shoulders to place the blindfold over his eyes. He didn't touch the tattoo, though he truly wanted to. Castiel hadn't given him permission for that, and something that intricate had to be deeply personal, so Dean left it alone. Touching during sex wasn't the same as tracing the perfect lines of it with his fingers.

Dean secured the blindfold behind Cas' head then stepped back. He circled Castiel slowly, getting a look at him from every angle. Then he walked to the bar. He filled a rocks glass with ice then poured a little water over it. He sipped the water as he approached Castiel again.

Dean picked an ice cube out of the glass and pressed it to Castiel's right nipple which had a horizontal bar through it. Castiel gasped at the sensation, and Dean smiled at the way his body shook. Castiel had said he was interested in sensation play.

Dean pulled the cube back after a couple seconds. He walked around Castiel again before pressing the melting piece of ice to the top of Castiel's ass, letting the melting ice drip down his crack.

He was pleased as Castiel moaned softly. Dean took a sip of the water again, and took an ice cube in his mouth. He stepped around Cas and bent to kiss him, pressing the cube between Castiel's lips. As they continued to kiss around the melting ice, Dean grabbed another before wrapping his hand around Castiel's cock.

Castiel yelped and jerked at the cold against his sensitive skin, but Dean continued to stroke him, the ice lubricating his movement. Castiel whined as the edge of the ice brushed the head of his cock, but Dean kept stroking him. Castiel's breath was coming faster as Dean moved his hand faster as well.

When Cas couldn't hold still, Dean pulled back, the ice melted by then. Dean took another sip of his drink as he took a good look at Castiel. His chest was heaving. His dick was standing straight out, begging for more attention or torture, Dean couldn't be sure. The muscles in his stomach rippled from the aftershocks of the ice play.

Dean smiled, reaching out to flick Castiel's right nipple piercing. He enjoyed the way Castiel cried out, but moved into the sensation.

Dean wasn't really sure how long he should keep the scene going since it was their first time. Honestly, he could get off any time now with how incredible Castiel look and sounded.

“Hands and knees,” he ordered. He still hadn't punished Castiel for not being on his knees when Dean had arrived. Dean looked at Castiel's ass as he bent over. Dean moved behind him and grabbed another ice cube. He pressed it between Castiel's cheeks, right up against his hole.

Castiel gasped, breathing harshly as Dean held it there with his palm. When it was melted, Dean pulled his hand back only to deliver a firm slap to the meat of Castiel's ass. Castiel held his tongue, keeping his cry to himself, so Dean delivered a second slap to the other cheek.

“When I tell you to be waiting on your knees for me, I mean it,” Dean told him, slapping again. “I don't care if you have to split your pants to do it.” Dean delivered ten slaps in total, and Castiel was shaking by the end of it. It had to be a killer on his knees the way he jolted with each hit.

When Dean finished the last smack, he soothed Castiel's cheeks with his palm. “Are you going to follow directions next time?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said, his voice raw from choking back his cries.

“Good,” Dean said curtly, rising to his feet. “Kneel again,” Dean ordered, taking Castiel's biceps in his hands. Castiel accepted the help as he got to his knees. Dean went to the sofa and grabbed a throw pillow, placing it in Castiel's hands sine he couldn't see through the blindfold. Castiel gingerly knelt on the pillow as Dean removed his cock from his slacks again.

“Suck me off. These are expensive pants, so you better not make a mess,” Dean told him, guiding Cas' mouth to his erection.

Castiel went to work immediately. He tongued at the head of Dean's cock before swallowing him down, humming against Dean's flesh. Dean threw his head back and groaned at how good it felt.

Castiel was a man determined to wring the best orgasm of Dean's life out of him with nothing more than his mouth. Dean had never given him permission to touch, and Castiel kept his hands to himself.

It didn't take Dean long to build. He grabbed Cas by the hair again, tugging to warn him that he was close. Castiel hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, and Dean felt his body give in. Dean groaned as he came, come flowing down Castiel's throat.

Dean looked at Castiel's beautiful face as he came down. Cas didn't pull back until he was given permission, sucking up every last drop Dean had to offer.

Dean wrapped his hand around the base of his cock as he pulled it from Cas' mouth. He wiped it on Castiel's cheek and swollen lips before tucking it back into his boxers.

He looked down at Cas, his erection hanging heavy between his thighs. Dean picked his glass up off the floor where he'd placed it and lifted it over Cas. There were still a few ice cubes floating in the water. Dean picked one out before pouring the water over Cas' lips. It flowed over his jaw and down his chest.

Dean bit his lip at how good it looked. He held out his hand that held the ice cube, and guided Castiel's hand to take it.

“You have until it melts to get yourself off,” Dean told him.

Castiel took the hand with the ice cube and wrapped it around himself. He stripped his cock quickly, gasping at the contrast between the cold of the ice cube and the warmth of his palm.

Dean watched the pleasure play over his features. He watched the way Castiel circled the head of his penis with the palm of his hand on each stroke. Within minutes Castiel was crying out, body shaking. He stroked himself through his climax, and when he finished, he held out his hand. His palm was covered in come and water, but right in the center there was a sliver of ice.

“Very good,” Dean told him. Kneeling to kiss Castiel hungrily before removing the blindfold.

They ended up sprawled out on the marble floor, making out like teenagers. Castiel's pants were still halfway down his thighs, and Dean's suit was getting Cas' come all over it. Dean didn't really care that much.

When they pulled back, both breathing hard, Dean helped Castiel to his feet and over to the sofa. Castiel pulled his pants off completely, and Dean lost his suit jacket and tie then rolled up his sleeves.

Castiel got up and went to the bar, grabbing them both waters. He tossed one to Dean which he caught with ease. Then Cas went around lighting candles. He pulled a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table. He lit up as he collected his guitar case.

Dean watched as Cas set the case down on the couch next to him. He removed a legal pad from the pocket on the front of the case, grabbed a pen off the table, then kicked his feet up. He tilted his head back and took a long drag of his cigarette; he looked like he belonged in a magazine, the picture was so perfect.

Cas had told him that he'd want to write after their scenes, that he felt the most creative right after the fact. So, their aftercare would be Dean sticking around, but not interfering with his creative process.

Dean figured that he could hang out and watch Cas write. It would be interesting to see how the world's biggest rock star created the songs that millions of people loved.

Still, while Castiel got set up, Dean went back to the bar and collected a bowl of ice. He stole one of the towels from the bar and knelt beside where Castiel's bare legs were sprawled out on the sofa.

Castiel raised an eyebrow when Dean dumped a good amount of ice into the towel and fashioned it into an ice pack before placing it over Castiel's right knee.

“They're fine,” Cas told him, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“I take ice baths after fights because I want to be able to walk the next morning when all the adrenaline is gone. We did a number on these, and you'll realize it later,” Dean told him, noting the way Cas' breathing was a little erratic.

Maybe the cold was turning him on again after what they'd just done, but a little discomfort now was better than the pain he'd be in later if he didn't take care of himself.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized all the same.

“It's fine. I trust your expertise on battered bodies,” Castiel told him, getting back to settling in.

Dean kept the ice on each knee for five minutes before switching, and then gave them another five. Castiel seemed to tune it out after a couple of minutes, getting down to actually working. Dean figured that they both had jobs to do right now, and it felt better to be useful than to just sit and watch.

It was interesting. Castiel chain smoked as he scribbled away at his pad. He went through three bottles of water, Dean getting up to get him a new one each time he ran out. Cas picked at the food Dean placed on the table, but cigarettes seemed to be his sustenance while writing.

About two hours later, Castiel stubbed out his cigarette and rested his head against the back of the sofa. He hummed a few bars of a melody several times, changing it minutely each time. Then suddenly, he slapped his hands to his bare thighs. “Shower?” he asked, looking straight at Dean.

“Sure,” Dean said with a shrug.

This wasn't a relationship. They weren't lovey dovey, and they certainly didn't wash each other. Instead, the rubbed against each other until they both came again as the shower head pounded water against them. It was good, and they both left the large cubicle with satisfied smiles.

“I'm going to head down to the casino then head back to mine. You want to go again tomorrow?” Dean asked, pulling his suit back on.

Castiel was wearing the hotel's complimentary robe.

“Tomorrow's good. When are you free?” Castiel asked.

“More interviews in the afternoon, but I'm good before or after or both,” Dean told him.

“After. I have business I should take care of in the morning. You'd think after four albums, people would know how the process goes,” Castiel said, sounding mildly annoyed.

“After's fine. I'll text you when I'm finishing up,” Dean promised, moving toward the door.

“Perfect. Thank you for tonight. I think I have a solid song and a good start on a second,” Castiel told him at the elevator.

“Glad to be of service. It was better than I was expecting.”

“Me too.”

Dean patted Cas on the shoulder then stepped into the elevator. As he rode down to the casino, he thought about all of the research he was going to need to do to get ideas for next time. He had a feeling that he'd be getting off to research.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was on the phone with Bobby, discussing possible upcoming fight opportunities the next morning. He was feeling incredible; he'd worked out in the gym for close to two hours, then he'd soaked in the tub in his room. Now he was pacing the suite, talking stats and solid career moves.

There was an up and comer hoping to get a shot at Dean, but Bobby didn't like it. He figured that Dean had earned the big fights, and the new guy had to show his metal before he could start making demands. Dean wasn't so against it. He'd been there before—been bored with the fights he was getting and wanted to prove himself with the big guys.

The guy Bobby was looking at had been around as long as Dean, longer actually, and their records were pretty evenly matched. In Bobby's eyes, if Dean lost it wouldn't tarnish everything he worked so hard for. It would be a solid fight. But if Dean lost to the upstart, there would be talk and fewer options, and if he won, it wouldn't further his career.

Dean was arguing back and forth with Bobby when there was a knock on his door. Dean didn't even tell Bobby to stop grumbling for a second as he answered it.

A courier stood out in the hall, holding a neatly wrapped gift box with a shimmering green bow on it. Dean's eyes widened, taking it all in.

“A gift for Mr. Winchester,” the man said, holding out the invoice.

“Yeah, that's me,” Dean told him, using the small box to sign the paper. Dean fished a twenty out of his wallet and shut the door on the man. He carried the box to the bed as Bobby continued to tell him to think about how he wanted his last few bouts to go, like Dean's retirement was happening any day now.

Dean pulled the ribbon slowly, watching it fall away from the silver box. Bobby's voice fell away too as he focused on the package, pulling off the top.

On top of the soft tissue paper was a card. Dean picked it up and opened it. In curling cursive, it read: _Thought you might enjoy this. —Castiel_

Dean carefully pushed the paper aside to reveal a black cock ring. Dean smirked; Castiel definitely played dirty. Dean would almost be offended that Castiel thought he needed to last longer if he wasn't so intrigued by the possibilities.

“I've got to go, Bobby. I'll call you back with my decision later.” Dean hung up without waiting for a reply, picking up the ring and feeling the smooth material. He couldn't wait to test it out. He'd never gotten excited about sex toys before, but the thought of playing with Cas again set his blood ablaze.

He needed to return the gesture.

Dean went to the laptop Sam had picked out for him and opened it up. He minimized the tabs on his stats and the stats of possible opponents, as well as the ones for the various BDSM sites he'd been reading. He'd gotten plenty of ideas the night before.

Then he opened a new tab and brought up the lingerie site he usually bought his girlfriends gifts from. He remembered Castiel not wearing any underwear last night, and it got him thinking of Castiel wearing black lace under his leather pants.

Dean didn't know where the idea came from, but it had been lurking in his thoughts since their scene. He pictured Cas laid out on his couch afterward, writing his songs in nothing but a pair of panties, his cock not even inside of them, just resting against his body.

Dean sifted through the site, looking for the perfect gift. He knew he wouldn't have to order Castiel to wear them tonight. He'd do it without any prompting, just like Dean would wear the ring when they got going.

Dean found what he was looking for—a matching set that even came with an optional garter belt— and he called a boutique on the strip that sold the brand he wanted. He placed his order and insisted it be hand delivered to Castiel's penthouse.

“The note should read: 'You'll look good in these when you're on your knees,'” Dean told the woman on the other end of the line.

“Oh, that's a very good message,” the woman said, sounding a bit flustered.

“You think so?” Dean asked.

“Oh, I definitely think that she'll love it,” the woman promised. Dean didn't correct her. He just hoped that they fit Castiel. Dean could usually know a woman's size just by looking at her, but Cas wasn't shaped like that. He was broad and tall, muscular though lean. Dean would just have to wait and see.

He gave the woman his credit card information then went back to reading up on BDSM. He still had a couple hours before the press event; he could do some reading and still have plenty of time to get ready.

Dean wasn't expecting to get so carried away with his research. Benny banging on his door jolted Dean from where he was reading up on bondage tips. He glanced at his watch and cursed to himself, closing out of everything that wasn't work related before going to answer the door.

Benny hit him with an unimpressed look as he took in Dean's ripped jeans and t-shirt.

“One night of sex with a rock star and you forget you're here on business?” Benny teased him, walking into the suite.

“Something like that,” Dean grumbled, walking to the closet to grab slacks and a button up. He didn't understand why he had to wear a suit so often when his work uniform was shorts and other people's blood.

“Bobby talk you into the Alastair fight?” Benny asked, standing in front of Dean's laptop and reading the stats page on Alastair.

“He tried. I don't like the guy. Not really looking to step into the cage with him,” Dean told him, dropping his pants to change.

“The kid isn't going to do anything for you,” Benny said, sounding like Bobby had gotten to him. Usually Benny supported Dean almost blindly. He said Dean could take his career wherever he wanted to. Dean hoped that Benny wasn't going to be getting on him to give up fighting now too.

“Maybe it's not about my career. Kid's got good stats. He's got promise. Maybe he deserves a chance to show what he's got,” Dean said, checking his hair in the mirror. He looked decent. Not bad for five minutes of prep.

“Dean, you don't have to be the one to launch his career. Think about you for once,” Benny told him.

Dean rolled his eyes. He wasn't nearly as altruistic as his team made him out to be. Sure, he took some fights because the guys needed a fight just to put dinner on the table, but once Dean stepped into the cage, all nice thoughts left his head.

“It's _my_ career, Benny.”

“You know I've got your back no matter what, Chief, but Bobby hasn't been at this for three decades because he's an idiot.”

“Look, I'll think about it,” Dean told him, shoving his phone into his pocket and waving Benny to follow him.

Benny slapped him on the back as they walked out the door. Dean pushed thoughts about his career out of his mind as they rode to another casino. This was a press event, but it was more celebrity than athletic.

He would be judging a baking contest. He wasn't sure who set this up, but Dean was not complaining. Baked goods were one of Dean's passions—not making them, but definitely eating them. He planned to smile at the photographers and enjoy himself some pie.

Benny didn't seem to mind the event either, helping himself to what the judges left.

Dean was halfway through a piece of pecan pie when he felt his pocket vibrate. He discreetly checked who sent the message as he took another bite. When he unlocked his phone, he choked on his pie.

The judge beside him quickly patted his back as he coughed harshly. She was in her mid-twenties and had been a swimsuit model. He wasn't entirely sure she was any more qualified to be a judge than he was, but she was very sweet. She rubbed his back until he stopped choking.

“Are you okay?” she asked, leaning down to pick up his phone which he'd dropped during his coughing fit. Dean tried to stop her but it was too late. She caught a glimpse of the picture on his phone and laughed softly. “Oh, I might have choked too,” she said, handing it back to him with a wink.

Dean laughed because there wasn't much else he could do. She poured him a glass of water as he looked down at his phone once more before shoving it in his pocket.

Castiel had sent him a picture message of his ass covered in black lace panties. Dean was going to have a word with him about appropriate times to sext, because in the middle of a taping for a bake off TV show was not the proper time. Even if the judges on either side of him were best known for posing in outfits just like the one Cas wore.

The next time his phone vibrated, Dean knew he shouldn't look. Instead, he finished his slice of key lime. The other judges took a single bite of their samples, but Dean wasn't here to fool around, demolishing each slice they put in front of him like it was an eating contest instead of a baking contest, and he gave people dirty looks when they tried to give him small slices. The last girl had brought him an entire quarter of the pie. Dean liked her very much.

Only when the round was over, and the judges were heading to the deliberation room, did Dean check his phone.

_—I'm concerned with the sizing of this. It doesn't seem to fit._

Dean read the message again as he looked at the attached picture. Evidently, Castiel was a shower, because his flaccid cock was just too big for the panties and peeked out over the lace.

Dean felt himself harden instantly. The panties were just barely holding Cas in place, but god it was a beautiful image. Dean would definitely not be deleting that message for a long time.

Dean tried to focus on his duty as judge, but he didn't even argue when the others chose the inferior key lime over the orgasmic pumpkin chiffon pie. Dean figured that he'd just get Benny to steal that pie, and he'd consider it a win for him. He wondered what Castiel's thoughts on food play were.

Maybe another day. If Dean ate another thing he might just die. It would be a happy death, but then he wouldn't get to see Cas come in those panties. Some things were worth living for.

Benny was on the phone the second the winner was crowned, arguing with Pam as he and Dean wove their way out of the casino toward the strip, getting out of there before they could be enlisted into anything else. Evidently, Pam wanted to adopt another dog, but Benny was having none of it.

Pam had close to a dozen rescues, including Benny himself, but the woman always seemed to find more. Benny would give in in about an hour, but for now Dean got to hear all sorts of vitriol pour from his easygoing friend's lips at the thought of another loud dog taking over his house.

“I'm heading to the penthouse again,” Dean said as they got into the cab they'd flagged down. Dean made sure not to mention Cas while Benny was on the phone. While Dean figured that Pam either knew already or would find out as soon as Benny went home, Dean didn't want to be the one to spill the beans.

Benny put his hand over the mic on the phone and glanced at Dean. Dean could still hear Pam yelling at him. “Don't think I didn't see you choke at whatever dirty text that was sent to you. We still need to talk about your next fight, so don't get so carried away with this one that you forget about your real job again,” Benny told him before speaking into the phone. “Darling, they don't make beds big enough to fit me and your dogs, and I'm not moving onto the couch.”

Dean laughed, watching the scenery pass by slowly. This whole city seemed like something out of a dream; people flocked here with the sole intention to do things they'd regret. Dean was still wondering if he'd regret this thing with Castiel. Hell, Dean still didn't even know the man's last name, or if Castiel was his last name.

Once again, Dean got out of the cab at Castiel's hotel. He played a few games in the casino. Bought drinks for a few women, and then made his way up to Castiel's penthouse.

This time, when Dean stepped out of the elevator, Castiel was there on his knees in nothing but black lace. A demi cup bra was pulled taut over his pecs, but the sheer lace made his nipple piercings look all the better. The boy shorts panties were strained to hold Cas in, but they complimented the tone of his skin so well.

Dean undid his collar button as he walked closer to Castiel. He'd played it dangerous and put the cock ring on while he was riding up in the elevator. The thrill of possibly being caught had made it hard to get the thing onto his budding erection, but Dean had managed.

Castiel was eyeing the bulge in his pants like he knew exactly what Dean was packing in there, and that only turned Dean on more. Instead of walking right to Castiel, Dean stepped around him and walked over to the box that Castiel still hadn't put away. Maybe he didn't care if the cleaning crew knew exactly what he was getting up to in the most expensive suite in the hotel. Maybe he got off on that sort of thing.

That gave Dean an idea.

“You like your dirty little secrets out in the open for all to see?” he asked casually as he went through the contents of the box. He figured that he should step up the game today, since Castiel seemed like the kind of guy that got bored easily with the same thing. He liked to push boundaries, if not completely blow past them.

“My discography is a diary of my sex life. I don't mind the world knowing what I do in the bedroom. My secrets are my own though,” Castiel told him, hands clasped behind his back like he was casually waiting for something. The man had patience, Dean would give him that.

“But you like everyone figuratively watching you have sex?” Dean asked, eyeing the floor to ceiling bank of windows as he lifted the restraints out of the box. It would take a little ingenuity, but Dean was good at making things work. If he could rebuild his car after it was essentially totaled, he could secure a few restraints above a window.

“You don't host orgies if you don't like people watching,” Castiel retorted, sounding a little amused. Dean thought he should probably punish Cas for not giving him straight answers, but he was enjoying the banter too much.

“I guess not. Haven't hosted any myself. Do you serve little mini hot dogs and quiches at those sorts of things?” Dean asked.

“The last one I hosted, I was covered in sushi, and my guests ate off me.”

“Not a big sushi fan. Now if you were covered in pie filing, I could get on board with that,” Dean said, carrying the restraints to the wall. Castiel didn't turn to see what he was doing. Dean appreciated the show of trust.

“That would get...sticky.”

“Yeah, definitely sticky, but at least you wouldn't smell like fish while I'm fucking you, you know? That's a little off putting,” Dean told him, climbing onto a chair to secure the end of the restraint to one of the iron curtain rings. Thank god this place was built to sustain the drama of rock stars—everything was industrial strength. Dean secured one, and then he moved the chair to secure the second. It was going to be a bit of a stretch, but he figured it would be perfect for someone Cas' size.

Dean remembered all the things he'd read about restraints and kept the safety measures in mind. Castiel wanted to be dominated, but the last thing Dean wanted to do to the man was hurt him. He kept that shit inside the cage.

Dean walked back to Cas when he was finished, picking up the blindfold as he went. Castiel never moved as Dean approached. Dean ran his fingers through Cas' hair, massaging his scalp. He knew he enjoyed that, so he hoped that Cas did too. He was pleased when Cas leaned into the touch, humming his appreciation.

Dean tied the blindfold over Castiel's eyes, then helped him to his feet. He noted that Cas' knees were bruised from their play yesterday. He'd make Cas ice them again when they were done.

Dean smirked as he pinched one of Cas' nipples through the lace of the bra, using the barbell in it to lead him across the apartment to the bank of windows. Castiel moaned as his nipple was gently tugged in the right direction. Dean really loved how responsive the man was.

Dean let go of Castiel's piercing in order to press him against the cool glass. It was still light out as Dean strapped Castiel up to the window. They were too far up for there to be any real danger of anyone seeing Castiel's junk pressed to the glass, but it was the idea that counted.

Castiel's moans indicated that he had a fantastic imagination for this sort of play. Dean checked that the restraints weren't too tight or too loose before running his hand over Castiel's hair, down his neck, then down his back, purposely catching his finger on the clasp of the bra to pull it back and snap it against Cas' back. Castiel gasped, the tug enough to move the soft fabric over his nipples.

“How do you like being on display for anyone to see? Like a dress in a shop window. Bet more than a few people would enjoy trying you on,” Dean told him, pressing his own erection against Castiel's ass.

“Try me on, please,” Castiel said, rubbing against the glass. That was going to make an incriminating smudge.

Dean pressed against him again before stepping back. “You've got to earn it,” Dean whispered in his ear before returning to the box. Instead of picking a toy out of it, he picked up the entire box.

 

 

“Let's play a game, Castiel,” Dean said, dropping the box by Castiel's feet. Castiel shook at the sound, but it was more anticipatory than a flinch.

“What's the game?” Castiel asked, voice back to sounding deep and rough.

“I'm going to pick a toy out of the box and touch it to your back. If you can tell me what it is, you get to decide how I use it on you,” Dean told him.

“And if I don't guess correctly?”

“I decide.”

“Okay.”

Dean smiled, picking an easy one to start. He pressed the vibrator to the small of Cas' back, turning it on low. Castiel groaned, thrusting his hips against the glass again.

“Vibrator,” Castiel said.

“Very good. How would you like me to use it?” Dean asked. It was a small vibrator with only a few settings, so it could either be gentle or quite strong.

“Nipples,” Castiel told him. Dean was a little surprised, but Castiel did seem to really enjoy his nipples being played with.

Dean reached around him, trailing the vibrator over Castiel's ribs before circling his right nipple. Castiel gasped, the anticipation stealing his breath away. Dean loved the way his lips parted ever so slightly before his bottom lip slowly found its way between his teeth.

Castiel bit down on the plush flesh when Dean finally touched the vibrator to his nipple gently. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything so beautiful as Castiel struggling to control his body's pleasure.

Dean played with one nipple then the other as Castiel shook in his restraints. Dean was definitely a fan of this game. After several minutes, he slowly pulled the vibrator away from Castiel's body and began to look though the box again.

He pulled out one of the bottles of lube, and poured a drop onto the curve of Castiel's spine, watching the way it slid down his back and soaked into the lace covering his ass.

Castiel guessed correctly, and took the choice for what it was, and allowed Dean the opportunity to open him up with his lube covered fingers, so they wouldn't have to slow down later to take care of it. That didn't mean that Dean was clinical; he had Cas fucking himself on his fingers, carefully brushing over his prostate to leave Castiel a shaking mess. By the time Dean went back into the box, Castiel was loose and needy.

Dean took out a small vibrating plug. It wouldn't do much in the way of opening Cas up, but it could be quite powerful, and it was shaped for prostate stimulation. Cas guess the vibrator again when Dean pressed it to his back which gave Dean an idea.

He slowly pushed the plug into Cas and turned it on. Cas shook as Dean retrieved the vibrator again and reached around to press it to his nipples again. Cas' mouth fell open in a gasp as he felt the vibrations from both toys. He looked beautiful as he squirmed, trying to control his pleasure, but Dean could see the precome dripping from his cock. He was barely holding it together.

Next, Dean picked up the smaller of the dildos that they bought. It was smaller than Dean was, and it looked like a good way to warm him up. He pressed the tip of it to Castiel's back, but Castiel guessed the larger sized dildo.

Dean didn't ask what Castiel wanted, and instead slowly worked it into Cas. “Want you to hold it inside you,” Dean instructed once it was halfway in, panties pulled down just enough to accommodate the dildo. It was only six inches all together, so Castiel barely had three inside of him. He did as ordered, and Dean removed his hand from the toy, stepping back to see the way it hung out of Castiel.

“Hop,” Dean ordered.

Castiel didn't move right away.

“Up and down,” Dean further clarified. Cas frowned like he couldn't understand why Dean wanted him to do that.

Castiel made a small jump, and his whole body went ridged as the dildo jiggled.

“Again,” Dean said, enjoying the show immensely. Cas' back arched beautifully in ecstasy.

Castiel made another small bounce, but Dean wasn't satisfied.

“I watched a video last night where you leapt off the stage into the crowd. I think you can do better than this,” Dean scolded. “I want to see you jump.”

Castiel bit his lip and hopped a good six inches off the ground and gasped at the way the force shook the dildo.

“Again,” Dean said, and each time Castiel complied, he asked for another hop. “Keep holding it in,” he instructed, watching the way it was slowly coming out. Castiel clenched, but that seemed to make the vibrations from each jump more intense.

Eventually, Dean had Castiel jumping up and down repeatedly, until the dildo suddenly dropped to the hardwood floor, and Castiel cried out.

Dean was in his space immediately, soothing him, promising that he'd done well. “So good, Cas. You have incredible control,” Dean praised, rubbing Cas' ass gently as he resettled the panties in place. “Ready to keep playing?” Dean asked after a minute of rest.

“Yes,” Castiel said, nodding as well.

“Good. You're doing so well,” Dean said, giving Cas' ass a firm pat. He dug through the box, finding a thick string of anal beads. He ran them over the top of Castiel's ass, and Cas shook as he guessed incorrectly. Castiel guessed the wand vibrator which also had a bulbous bit, but wrong all the same.

“Breath out slow,” Dean instructed, placing the smallest bead to Castiel's ass. As Castiel breathed out, Dean pressed the ball in. “Lean back,” Dean said gently, and guided Castiel into his arms as Castiel pushed away from the glass as far as his restraints would allow.

Dean looked over Castiel's shoulder and down his chest to where he cock leaked over his panties. Dean reached around to slip his fingers into the cup of the sheer bra, playing with Castiel's nipple as he kissed his neck.

“I shouldn't be rewarding you for two wrong answers, but you looked so good jumping...” Dean let his words trail off as he brought his other hand around to cup Castiel's testicles through the lace. Castiel sighed as Dean massaged him. “That feel good?”

“Yes.” Castiel's voice was nothing more than a sigh as well.

“You ready for more?” Dean asked again.

“Yes.”

“So eager,” Dean growled, letting go and pressing Castiel back into the glass. “Breath out again.” Dean pressed the next two beads into Castiel, playing with different pressures against Castiel's rim to see how he reacted. Dean concluded that Castiel's ass was almost as sensitive as his nipples, affected by shallow play as much as deep penetration.

Dean left the beads inside Castiel, two still dangling from between his cheeks. He went to the box and picked up one of the paddles. He brushed it down Castiel's spine.

“Paddle,” Castiel guess, and Dean smiled.

“And how would you like me to use it?” Dean hadn't known Cas for more than a day, but he knew that the man wouldn't back down. He'd take this to the next level.

“Spank me,” Castiel requested.

Dean didn't need to be told twice, tugging the panties a little further down and lightly smacking Castiel's left cheek with the wooden paddle.

Castiel choked on a scream as the smack rattled the beads still inside of him.

Dean waited a moment, playing with the beads not inside Castiel which had him shaking even more. When Castiel calmed a little, Dean gave him another hit, this time to the right cheek.

Castiel nearly chewed through his lip holding in his cries.

Dean was hard as a rock as he delivered smack after smack to Castiel's ass, removing beads or adding another every hit or so. Castiel was shaking violently when Dean delivered the final hit, deciding that Castiel couldn't take anymore.

Dean couldn't take any more either, feeling he might come just from watching the way Castiel reacted to each game. Instead, he put the paddle down, knelt, and pressed his lips to Castiel's redden cheeks. He kissed the abused flesh as gently as he could as he carefully removed the last two beads from Castiel which still left Castiel whimpering.

Dean rubbed Castiel's sides as he slowly got to his feet again. They'd barely been playing for twenty minutes, but it felt like they'd been in their own world for hours.

“Hold the restraints,” Dean told him, guiding Castiel to grip the rope part of the restraint in order to stabilize himself. “I'm going to fuck you. If you can't support your weight, I need to know. If your wrists hurt, I need to know. If you start to go numb, I need to know. Those are nonnegotiable. Do you understand?” Dean asked, unzipping his slacks and pushing them and his boxers down.

“Yes,” Castiel said.

“Not good enough. Tell me what you're agreeing to,” Dean said, giving himself a couple strokes before rolling on the condom.

“If I'm in pain or something isn't right, I'll tell you,” Castiel promised.

“Good,” Dean told him, stepping forward and lining himself up. Thank god for the cock ring, because Dean doubted he would've gotten all the way inside Castiel before coming if it weren't for that. Watching Castiel was better than the best porn Dean had ever seen. He was a gift.

Dean slid home, and Castiel sucked in a quick breath. “We good?” Dean asked.

“Yes, sir,” Castiel told him.

“You aren't allowed to come until I tell you, remember that,” Dean instructed, starting to rocking his hips in shallow movements.

Castiel's answer was a weak whimper as he was pressed against the glass. Dean thrust harder. Even with the ring, he wasn't going to last too long.

Castiel shook with every movement Dean made. He tried to meet Dean's thrusts, but each time Dean pushed in, Castiel was left quaking until he was pressing in again.

Dean wasn't feeling any more stable than Castiel. It felt incredible inside Cas, and every breathy little moan Cas couldn't hold back had Dean that much closer to falling apart.

Dean reached around him to tear down the bra, so he could twist Castiel's nipple. The sound Cas made was half pleasure, half agony. Dean could tell he was turned on to the point of it edging toward pain. Still, he had the self control to meet each of Dean's demands.

As Dean plucked at his other nipple he pressed his lips to Cas' ear. “You have permission to come,” he said, taking the lobe between his teeth and worrying it.

Cas went rigid almost immediately. Dean gasped at the way Cas' body gripped him, pumping him dry. Dean couldn't fight his own body any longer either, and he joined Cas in orgasm. Both of them shaking against each other.

Castiel's forehead was pressed to the cool glass of the window when Dean came down. Dean pressed kisses to his shoulders and neck.

“You did so well,” he praised. Honestly, Dean felt a little off balance. Cas was so good at this, and Dean still felt like a fish out of water, afraid to fuck it up. Cas adapted to it all though.

Dean carefully unfastened the restraints. Castiel's arms fell to his sides heavily. Dean picked up his right wrist and massaged it gently. Castiel's cheek was still pressed to the glass, his breath fogging the window. His breathing was slowly coming back to normal. He still wore the blindfold, but Dean knew his eyes were closed as he enjoyed the afterglow.

Dean took his other wrist and massaged that as well as he pressed Cas to the glass, letting him borrow Dean's strength and his heat. Cas' skin was cool to the touch.

When Cas flexed his hands and nodded, Dean released his wrists. He carefully turned Cas and guided him to the sofa. Castiel collapsed onto the cushions with a long sigh. He pulled off the blindfold himself when he was ready, blinking to adjust to the light again.

“Is my pack over there?” he asked.

Dean grabbed the pack off the table, pulled out a smoke, lit it in his own mouth before placing it between Cas' lips.

“Please help yourself if you like,” Castiel told him, opening his eyes to study Dean.

“Can't smoke and fight. Used to smoke about a pack a day when I was a kid, but when I made the jump to professional fighting, I had to drop it, find other ways to get myself that much closer to the grave,” Dean told him, tossing his lighter back in his pocket.

“You're a stronger man that I am,” Cas told him, taking a long drag, still watching Dean like he was the most fascinating thing on earth. Dean found that hard to believe after what they'd done together so far.

“Not really. I was a royal ass to everyone around me until the cravings settled down. Replaced it with too much alcohol when I'm not heading into a fight. I can breathe easier, but I'm still drowning slowly,” Dean said, walking to the bar to get them both water.

When Cas had water in one hand and his cigarette in the other, Dean went around lighting the candles all over the suite the way Castiel had yesterday. When the mood was decidedly more romantic, he grabbed Cas' guitar case as well and laid it down on the floor in front of Castiel.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked, since Castiel seemed to be in no hurry to move at all.

“Incredible. I feel so wonderfully drained. Everything is heavy, but my mind is light as a feather,” Cas told him, letting his head fall back against the cushion. “You know, when I was a child, I used to watch the other children play. They'd run around chasing each other. They'd create adventures riding their bikes through the neighborhood or going down the stream in the woods. I wasn't allowed to play with them. I had tutoring, piano lessons, violin lessons, choir rehearsals. I had church to attend on Sunday morning, picnics to attend in the afternoon. I felt ashamed for wanting to be like the other children. I wanted to be free. My mind was heavy then. My body light and young, but I was weighed down by expectations and demands that I couldn't fulfill, didn't want to. If my parents could see me right now, they'd be horrified, but I feel free,” Castiel said, pausing only to take a lungful of smoke.

“Your parents sound like they were delights,” Dean said, picking at the label on his bottle.

“They disowned me for giving in to Satan's temptation. I was seventeen.”

“Jesus, that's fucked up,” Dean said, making the decision to sit with Cas instead of on the love seat. He lifted Castiel's legs and sat down, pulling Cas' feet into his lap.

“I don't talk about them. I never use them as inspiration. Maybe I rebelled, but it needed doing. I won't give them the satisfaction to know they broke me,” Castiel said, stubbing out his cigarette in the heaping ash tray. “I chose decadence. I chose carnal sin, and I enjoy it. Why not bang a few gongs before you go, am I right?”

Dean looked at him hard. Castiel sounded bitter, but his eyes still held the light from their scene. Clearly he resented his family, but he surprisingly didn't resent what he'd become.

“Why not.” Dean echoed, massaging Castiel's feet with his hands.

Castiel's head fell back again, and he groaned. “Why not,” he repeated softly, sounding distant.

Dean could relate to Castiel's resentment. He certainly felt enough of his own. He hadn't been disowned, but maybe that wouldn't have been a bad thing.

“My dad wasn't so good either. He didn't really give a shit what we did most of the time, but he always found ways to put us down when we were starting to make something of ourselves. He all but disowned my brother for going to Stanford. Then he turned around and told me how I'd never amount to anything picking fights down at the underground circuit,” Dean told him.

“Look at us now though,” Castiel said, sounding more upbeat again. “If you don't agree that was some of the best sex of your life, you're lying,” Castiel teased.

“I do like having you at my pleasure. It fits,” Dean admitted, stroking his hand up Cas' leg. Cas was still wearing the panties, though they were covered in drying come.

“It does, doesn't it?”

A silence fell between them, and soon Castiel took up his pad and pen and started to scratch away at the paper. Dean continued to massage his legs, enjoying being near Castiel more than he expected.

“I liked when you spanked me while I had the beads in my ass,” Castiel said out of the blue, eyes still trained on his pad.

“That isn't part of your song is it?” Dean asked, almost choking on his tongue. Cas tended to have that effect on him.

“No, that's why I'm telling you. I don't think I would've been able to hold off my orgasm if you'd hit me one more time, and then you probably would've hit me some more for not following orders.” He paused for a moment, crossing something out on the page. “I wish you had spanked me again.” It was barely a whisper, but Dean heard it loud and clear.

Dean bit his lip. He felt himself stir in his slacks. Castiel may have handed over control of the scenes to Dean, but the man certainly knew how to wind him up. He clearly enjoyed being punished and humiliated, and he didn't seem the least bit ashamed about craving it.

Dean shook his head, smiling. “Mind if I order room service? That made me hungry.”

“Didn't you spend all afternoon eating pie?”

“Yeah, and the rest of the afternoon getting worked up with you, so I'm hungry again,” Dean retorted.

“Menu is on the bar, order whatever you like,” Castiel told him, going back to writing. He removed another cigarette from the pack and just placed it between his lips as he wrote.

Dean lifted his feet and got off the couch before placing them back on the cushion. Castiel didn't look up. Dean ordered enough food for a small army—steaks, pasta, seafood. He wasn't sure what Cas would want, but he figured that there had to be something he'd want to eat. Cas seemed like he'd forget to eat if Dean didn't remind him.

Dean grabbed two more water bottles while he was up. When he came back to the sofa, he pressed the cold bottle to the back of Cas' neck, and Cas immediately tilted his head back against it, sighing.

“I enjoyed watching you try not to make a sound. You should probably ice that lip,” Dean told him, reaching down to run his thumb over Castiel's abused bottom lip.

Castiel opened his eyes, looking right up at Dean, a smirk playing on his lips. “I almost lost it when you pressed the vibrating plug to my prostate while using the small one on my nipples.”

“I think you lost it all over the window when I did that,” Dean said, pointedly looking at the smear of come on the window.

“But I didn't scream.”

“No you didn't. I might have liked to hear it though,” Dean mused, running his fingers through Cas' hair.

“Maybe next time I won't hold back.”

“Don't hold back with me. Want it all,” Dean said, surprised by how true it was. Dean wanted everything Cas could throw at him. This experiment had an expiration date, and Dean wanted to experience everything he could from it. Dean didn't do things halfway. It was always all or nothing.

“I like that. That'll be a good chorus,” Castiel told him, sitting up again and scribbling onto his pad. “Do you mind me using that? Because I can't exactly credit you as a writer without outing this. Though you are certainly a coauthor on this entire album,” he asked, making arrows from what he just wrote to another cluster of words.

“Use whatever you like. I don't need my name on anything,” Dean told him, moving back to the sofa. He sat on the love seat, waiting for their food to arrive.

“You don't take enough credit for yourself. You didn't think quitting smoking was a big deal. Instead, you put down your attitude while you were going through withdrawal. You were very reserved after your fight, not basking in the glory like other fighters did that night. You're inspiring an entire album for me, and you don't want so much as a thank you in the acknowledgments,” Castiel said, watching him like he was a particularly troubling puzzle.

“I'm not inspiring an album. Us fucking each other is. You don't write songs about relationships or breakups. You write about sex and how it changes you. I'm just a part of the machine,” Dean answered.

“There you go again, minimizing. Though I see you listened to my music last night,” Castiel teased.

“How do you know I wasn't a fan before this?” Dean asked. He wasn't, but he didn't like to be seen as clueless.

“I know these things. You didn't get the look. I've gotten 'the look' from an eighty year old woman in a Denny's while in three day old clothes. I've gotten it from twelve year old girls who begged me to be their daddy as my band passed them to get into the club we were playing, but they were too young to enter. I know the look of someone who's heard me sing about losing my virginity in a truck stop for a ride just a few towns over. I know the look of someone who's heard me sing about orgies bringing me closer to God. There's a look. You didn't have it. You just had steel in your eyes,” Castiel told him.

“You really lose your virginity that way?” Dean asked. He was curious; Castiel had mentioned never having sex with a man before, so if it were true it had been with a woman, but had it be consensual?

“Her name was Lorraine. She was driving home from her first semester away at college. It wasn't nearly as sordid as it sounds. She wasn't even a year older than me, and her boyfriend had dumped her a few days earlier, so she bought me dinner. We had sex in the front seat of her car, and she drove me as far as her town's bus stop,” Castiel told him. “It wasn't actually a payment. We really did hit it off.”

“Wonder if she knows that song is about her,” Dean said.

Castiel shrugged. He seemed focused on his pad again.

Dean got up and grabbed Castiel his robe before the food arrived. He also grabbed ice and lotion. He iced Castiel's knees again. Then he asked Castiel to roll onto his stomach. Castiel grumbled about being distracted by Dean's attention, but Dean told him to cut it out as he lifted the robe to reveal Cas' ass. He carefully lowered the panties before placing the towel filled with ice on Castiel's scarlet skin.

Castiel hissed, suddenly gripping the couch for dear life.

“What's wrong?” Dean asked, placing a gentle hand to Cas' shoulder.

“It hurts,” Cas said through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, but it's going to hurt more later without it,” Dean said, feeling a little bad because Castiel's eyes were tightly closed and his knuckles turning white. Dean supposed that floating feeling was gone now because Cas was suddenly quite sensitive. When Dean felt Castiel had withstood the ice long enough to do him some good, he carefully rubbed the lotion onto Castiel's tender cheeks. Castiel's breathing eased as did his grip on the cushions.

“All done. Sorry you're hurting,” Dean told him, pulling the panties back up and the robe back down. Castiel nodded, resting his face against the cushion and relaxing for a moment before starting to write again.

“Don't worry about it. I wanted it. Just takes some getting used to again,” Castiel said, scribbling away. Dean didn't question the remark, but he wondered if it went back to his youth again.

When the butler came up with the food, Dean showed him where to put it. The man didn't even so much as glance at the window framed in restraints and covered in come. A true professional.

Castiel didn't so much as look away from his pad the entire time the man was there. Dean tipped him heavily and sent him on his way.

Castiel didn't acknowledge the food even as Dean moaned at how perfectly the steak was cooked. Dean decided that that just wasn't healthy, so he pushed Cas' guitar case out of the way and knelt beside the couch with a plate of steak drizzled in the most delectable demi glace.

“Open your mouth,” Dean ordered softly, lifting a piece to Cas' lips. Cas did as he was instructed and quickly chewed as he continued to write. “You don't take very good care of yourself when you're working,” Dean noted, cutting another piece for Castiel.

“I don't take good care of myself in general. That's what Uriel and assistants are for,” Castiel replied. He opened his mouth again when Dean pressed another piece to his lips.

“The internet said you need to take care of your body after what we did,” Dean told him, feeling a bit self-conscious about revealing his research.

“I drank water instead of vodka,” Castiel said as though that was some great concession. “I once finished a set with a concussion and three broken fingers.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who gave you the concussion, or I would've forced you to take care of yourself. You do this with me, you do it right,” Dean told him, pulling over a plate filled of shrimp and cocktail sauce. He dipped one into the sauce then dangled it in front of Cas' lips. Castiel bit it, leaving Dean holding nothing but the tail.

“Then you'll have to take care of me, because I'm not good for much when I'm writing,” Castiel told him, flipping the page on his pad and writing quickly.

“You're doing just fine talking,” Dean said, eating his own shrimp. “But I can take care of you afterward, just don't get pissed at me if I tell you you should be hydrating or eating...or icing.”

“I will try not to snap at you, but don't even think about telling me that I shouldn't be smoking. You aren't here to save me from myself.”

“Not here to save you from anything, just don't want you getting sick on me,” Dean retorted, finding something else for them to eat.

He fed Cas with his fingers, wiping away sauce that spilled over his lips with his thumb and sucking it into his own mouth. Cas continued to work, but when his pen wasn't scratching away, his hands found their way onto Dean's arm or into his hair.

By the time Dean was full, Castiel's head was on the cushion, and he was snoring softly, hand still resting on Dean's arm. Dean gently removed himself from Cas' grasp and put the remains of the food in the refrigerator. He took Castiel's pad and placed it on the coffee table, so he wouldn't roll on it or something.

Dean blew out the candles that were still burning and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He didn't want to leave until Castiel woke up because he didn't want Castiel to be disoriented. So, Dean decided to explore the penthouse suite.

The place was gorgeous, but Castiel was definitely right—there was nothing comforting about it. The beds were humongous. The bathrooms, of which there were four, were extravagant. However, Dean was a fan of the hot tub on the bedroom balcony. He would not complain about that. In fact, he had some ideas for it.

Dean was wandering around the massive entertainment room which had a grand piano when he heard the strum of a guitar filter through to him. He picked his way back to the sitting room to find Cas back in nothing but his panties, playing a soothing melody.

“I meant to be here when you woke up.” Dean frowned; he'd been away longer than expected.

“Saw your jacket on the chair. Knew you hadn't left,” Castiel told him, sounding unconcerned. The music seemed to weave around them, not interrupting their words, but becoming a part of the room.

Dean looked to where he'd folded the jacket neatly before they got down to business. “Sorry if you were disoriented or anything.” Dean still apologized.

“No worries. I was thinking about having a joint then soaking in the Jacuzzi, if you care to partake?” Castiel asked, never letting up the soft melody.

“Can't smoke.”

“Right, they drug test you sorts,” Castiel said. “I'm pretty sure they'd revoke my status as a rock star if they thought I was clean,” Cas told him, wearing a false smile.

“You're on top of the world. You can do what you want.” Dean never thought he'd say that—implying that someone could choose to obey a law instead of break it.

“Like I told you, I prefer to be out of control.”

“Except when you're with me.”

“Except when I'm with you,” Cas agreed, bringing the melody to an end.

“Maybe if we have a soak and relax, you'll be up to tying me to the bed and dragging another orgasm out of me,” Castiel said, placing his guitar aside and rising to step into Dean's space.

“I don't know if you're up for two scenes...”

“I promise not to hold back my screams this time,” he said, leaning in to whisper against Dean's ear.

Dean shuddered. “We'll see how you're feeling, but we're not doing anything if you're high.”

“Yes sir,” Cas said, giving Dean a poor version of a salute.

Dean shook his head but followed Cas to the hot tub. Cas didn't even bother taking the panties off. He shrugged when Dean pointed it out.

“They need a wash too,” he said—sly smile firmly in place.

Castiel was a strange man. He understood social norms, but he chose to ignore them whenever convenient. He left his sex toys in plain sight. He washed his clothes in the bath tub while bathing himself. He propositioned strangers to take part in his sexual experimentation in order to write an album, when he could invite almost anyone to have sex with him, and likely not be denied.

Dean had never experienced anyone quite so pure as Castiel. Maybe some people took it as naivety, but Castiel didn't fight his impulses. If he wanted someone to put him on his knees, he asked for it. If he wanted time to write when most people would want to cuddle, he said it. He wasn't afraid of judgment. It was something Dean could appreciate without fully understanding the freedom of it. Dean was still trying to prove himself, but Castiel was already on his victory lap.

Castiel eyed him up as he stripped down to his boxers.

“Turn around. Want to see your ink,” Castiel said, motioning with his finger for Dean to turn.

Dean folded his pants as he turned his back to Cas.

“Who's the angel?” Cas asked.

“My mother. Used to say angels were watching over me, before she died,” Dean explained, keeping his back to Cas.

“Now she's always sitting on your shoulder,” Cas said, sounding caring. “You should get us a bottle of champagne from the bar. We should be drinking champagne,” Castiel told him, making it sound like it was obvious.

Dean laughed, but he went and collected a bottle, not bothering with glasses. He doubted that Castiel would mind drinking from the bottle. He popped the cork against the wall before passing the bottle to Cas, who took a long swig.

“That's more like it. Here's to fucked up childhoods,” Castiel toasted, passing the bottle back to Dean as he climbed into the tub.

Dean took a drink and passed it back, settling into the hot water. “Here's to surviving them,” Dean retorted.

“Touché.”

They soaked in the steaming water, enjoying the feeling of the jets massaging them as they relaxed and shared their champagne. They'd been in a while when Dean noticed Cas' hand slip beneath the surface of the water.

“You jerking yourself off?”

“I was just thinking about all the possibilities in here, and I got myself hard,” Castiel told him, sounding unapologetic. He looked beautiful, relaxing against the wall of the tub with his hand beneath the water, distorted by the jets of water cutting through the tub.

“Well, share with the class. What are the possibilities?” Dean asked, taking a pull from the bottle.

“You could bend me over the side of the tub and fuck me with that waterproof vibrating plug we bought. Or I could ride your cock while you sit there playing with my nipples. You could fuck me against the wall of the tub using one of the jets to stimulate me...”

“You're just full of ideas,” Dean said, reaching down to touch himself as well. He had a few ideas of his own. “Thought you wanted me to tie you to the bed.”

“We can do that any time. It seems remiss to waste a perfectly good hot tub,” Castiel told him. “Waste not, want not, my mother used to say.”

“Then you should probably come over here,” Dean growled. He leaned out of the tub and grabbed his slacks, pulling the condoms he'd left in there out and rolling one on. Castiel wasted no time straddling his lap. “How tight are you now?” Dean asked, reaching down between them to push the panties aside and probe at Cas' hole.

“I can take you,” Cas told him. Dean wasn't just worried about how loose Cas was. His cheeks couldn't be feeling too good if he'd been in that much pain from the ice. He didn't want to do anything to aggravate that now.

Dean pressed a finger into him. Cas was tight—not starting from scratch tight, but not ready to go either. Dean urged Cas to ride his finger first, and Cas happily obliged. Dean used his other hand to toy with Cas' nipples.

Cas opened easily, taking a second finger quickly, before pulling Dean's hand away, and sinking down onto his cock. Dean held his hips steady, but Cas was definitely in control here, taking what he wanted.

Dean leaned forward to tongue at the right piercing on Cas' chest, flicking it and sucking it gently through the wet mesh of the bra. That made Cas jerk and moan loudly. It felt good just to have Cas riding him with abandon. No games, just sex. Dean was loving the scenes, but there was something to be said about simply enjoying each others' bodies.

Cas leaned back, holding onto the side of the tub to get the angle he was looking for. Dean watched him, his own orgasm building in his gut. Castiel was beautiful like this, with his eyes closed and his head tipped back. His chest heaved as he rose and fell quickly.

Dean ran his hands down Cas' chest watching him shudder at the touch.

Neither of them lasted long, coming as one, both groaning and pistoning right through, trying to drag the others pleasure out just a little longer.

Cas slumped and pulled off Dean to collapse against the side of the tub. Dean pulled the condom off and tossed it onto the floor.

“Pass the champagne,” Cas said after a couple minutes.

Dean grabbed the almost empty bottle and passed it to him.

“We should do that again before the week is out,” Cas said, emptying the bottle and placing it on the ledge beside the tub, running his fingers through his hair.

“I think we only made a bigger mess of our underwear,” Dean noted.

Castiel laughed. “Yeah, I suppose we did.”

They stayed in the water a little longer before staggering out of the tub and into Castiel's massive bed.

“Stay the night. There's plenty of room here. No point getting a cab back when you'll just be back tomorrow,” Castiel told him, eyes heavily lidded.

Dean grunted, too tired to really consider the implications of staying. They weren't together, what did it matter? At the end of the week, they'd go their separate ways with some incredible stories to tell. Or repress, in Dean's case.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean woke as the sun was rising. He rolled onto his side and came face to face with Castiel, who was still sleeping. Dean found himself studying Castiel's sharp features without even thinking about it. The man just demanded attention, even in sleep. Stubble shadowed his jaw, and his eyelashes fanned out just above his cheeks. He looked peaceful and unburdened. As much as Castiel claimed to be a free spirit, he was weighed down when he was awake. Dean caught himself when he realized what he was doing, took a slow breath, and carefully climbed off the bed.

They weren't really lovers, so there was no point in gazing at him like a lover struck sap. Dean ordered them both breakfast before going into one of the other rooms and doing a small workout of calisthenics. Normally, he'd do a whole workout before eating, but he didn't want to go down to the gym at this hotel. It could draw too much attention.

Castiel still wasn't up when the food arrived, so Dean wheeled it into the master suite. Castiel's eyes opened slowly as he heard the squeak of the cart.

“Breakfast in bed?” Dean asked.

“Are you going to feed me again?”

“Only if I tie you up first, but that could get messy,” Dean told him, removing the covers from the plates and placing them on the side.

“I hope there's coffee, because I hate mornings,” Castiel grumbled, sitting up in bed.

Dean smiled. “You mean you aren't glamorous and ready to break hearts at all times?” he teased, handing Cas a large mug of coffee.

“No, and I don't appreciate people with senses of humor before noon,” Castiel retorted, blowing on the coffee before taking two large gulps of it.

“I guess we can't fit a scene in before my obligations for the day then.” Dean picked up a piece of bacon and ate it happily. They made the good stuff for the honored guests, none of that transparent crap. This was real bacon.

“You need to leave at noon?” Cas asked, sounding surprised and maybe a hint disappointed.

“I have to leave at one, but an hour isn't enough time to do what we're doing,” Dean told him.

Cas sighed. “Let me eat and shower, and I'll be ready.”

“Not forcing you here.”

“No, I want to. I just would rather us on my schedule instead of yours.”

“You mean no schedule.”

“Precisely.”

Dean laughed, moving the plates to the bed so they could share the meal atop the covers. Dean ended up in charge of the bacon while Cas handled the scrambled eggs, feeding each other instead of reaching across—neither of them noticed that it was an intimate set up.

When they finished, Castiel drank his third cup of coffee before staggering to the bathroom to shower. Dean took a quick shower in one of the guest bathrooms, washing away the sweat from his workout, and enjoyed the way his muscles loosened up.

Castiel still wasn't out by the time Dean finished, so he pulled on his slacks, without underwear, and pulled his phone. He called Benny and waited while it rang.

“You didn't come back to your room last night. Are you doing the walk of shame?” Benny asked instead of greeting Dean.

“Not yet. I'll probably be back around 1:30,” Dean told him.

“Then why are you calling?”

“Really not sold on this Alastair fight,” Dean replied, sitting down on the couch in the front room.

“Dean, you aren't suppose to like your opponents. You're supposed to fight them. It's all the sweeter when you hate the sucker,” Benny told him.

“I'm just not sold on it.”

“You weren't sold on Saturday's fight either, but you knocked the guy on his ass. We're ready for this, Dean.” Benny wasn't letting Dean off that easily.

“I know I'm ready. I just don't like it,” Dean sighed.

“I'll talk to Bobby, but this is really your best prospect,” Benny told him.

“Fine, just talk to him,” Dean said, hanging up.

Strong hands started to massage his shoulders. Dean looked up to see Cas completely naked and still a bit damp from his shower.

“Not wasting any time on clothes I see.”

“Too early for clothes,” Cas told him.

Dean laughed. The man definitely had his quirks. Dean sat up and looked Castiel up and down—he was built strong, muscular though his body was lean.

“I want to see you in the collar,” Dean growled, resting his hands on Cas' hips.

Castiel smiled at him, sinking to his knees. “As you wish,” he told Dean.

Dean smiled and got up to get the collar which had a sturdy ring for attaching a lead. Dean ran his fingers over the soft leather, smiling as he sat back on the couch in front of Cas. Castiel moved to kneel between his knees, and Dean stroked his hair before carefully wrapping the collar around his neck.

“How's that?” he asked, making sure that he could fit two fingers beneath the leather.

“Feels good,” Castiel promised.

“If it stops feeling good, let me know and I'll take it off,” Dean told him as he fastened the clasp.

When that was done, Dean rose again to go to the box. He dug through it until he found the lead that Castiel had bought to go with the collar. He picked it up—it too was made of smooth leather. The man had spared no expense on their toys.

Dean went back to where Cas knelt and fastened the lead to the collar then gave it a gentle tug. Cas nodded and Dean smiled.

“Well, let's take a small walk to see how good you are,” Dean told him.

Cas rose to his feet and followed Dean around the sitting room, over to the windows, to the bar. When they got to the bar, Dean leaned against it.

“I'd like a screwdriver,” he told Castiel, giving the lead some slack. Cas looked at him, but after a moment he bent to pull the orange juice out of the refrigerator and the vodka from the freezer. He picked up a glass and started to pour the vodka. Dean nodded, and Cas stopped pouring immediately. Then he poured the orange juice until Dean gave him the cue.

“Thank you,” Dean told him as he took a sip of his drink.

“I have some calls to make,” Dean said, leading Castiel back to the sitting room. “I want you to play with yourself while I get some business done. No coming. No touching your dick,” Dean told him, guiding him to the footrest that went with the recliner in the corner. It was sturdy and leather. It would support Castiel, and any of his activities.

Dean went and grabbed the box of toys. He dropped them next to the chair and pointed to the box. “Choose one, and I'll do the same,” Dean told him. Castiel picked the small vibrator without thinking too long. Dean pulled the twelve inch dildo out of the box. “Want you to take as much as you can because when I'm done...” Dean let the sentence trail off, giving Cas a significant look. “And I'll know if you're going easy on yourself.”

Castiel nodded, sticking the base of the dildo on the footrest. Dean pulled the condoms from the box and covered the dildo then handed Castiel the bottle of lube.

Dean pulled his phone back out of his pocket. He held the lead in his left hand as he watched Castiel spread his legs and pour some lube onto his fingers. Dean smiled as Cas made eye contact while he reached behind himself and probed his ass. Dean wasn't sure who was going to struggle through this call more, because just watching Cas reach back to touch himself was doing all sorts of things to Dean.

Dean dialed Bobby's number. Castiel never lowered his eyes.

“Get over your prima donna bullshit, Dean,” Bobby told him instead of greeting. Dean really wished someone would just say hello for once.

“Not being a prima donna. I've turned down fights with Alastair every time he's challenged me,” Dean replied, flicking the end of the lead back and forth. It was either distract himself with that or palm himself, and he was  _ not _ about to touch himself while talking to Bobby. Not in a million years.

“But you're stronger than ever. You're ready for this fight,” Bobby argued.

“Still don't want to have it,” Dean told him, watching as Cas picked up the small vibrator and placed it back against his rim. Bobby continued to bitch about wanting an easy fight because he was afraid of taking on Alastair. That wasn't the truth. Dean wanted to punch Alastair more than anything. The guy was a scumbag, but he also didn't want to give him the satisfaction of accepting his challenge.

Dean didn't have it in him for months of trash talk, because Alastair was known for his psychological warfare. Dean just wanted a clean fight that he could be proud of. Fighting Alastair wouldn't make him a better fighter, or a better man.

Castiel rose to hover over the massive dildo. Dean bit his lip as Castiel steadied it against his hole. “Bobby, try to find another taker. If you don't want me fighting the kid, fine, but I don't want to fight Alastair,” Dean told him, watching Castiel sink down inch by inch, pulling himself back up when he got about a quarter of the way down.

Bobby grumbled some more, but Dean wasn't listening, he was just watching Cas ride the dildo like it was the best thing on earth. Dean tugged the lead just enough to remind Cas he was on it, but not enough to be a demand. Dean let Bobby talk some more, tuning out most of the grumbling as he watched Cas pleasure himself. He picked up on the important parts like injured fighters and ones that might be willing to fight Dean, but most of it was just grumbling.

The way Cas rode the silicon toy was much more interesting that Bobby's lecture. Dean had been on the receiving end of Bobby's lectures his whole life, and he was still screwing up. Cas though, Cas was a pleasure Dean had only just discovered, and he was quickly becoming addicted.

When Dean hung up, Cas was about three quarters of the way down on the dildo, and Dean figured that that was enough.

Dean rose and led Cas to the couch, pushing Cas down to kneel on the seat then pressed his chest up against the back of it. Dean held the leash firmly, so Cas had to keep his head up.

Dean pulled the cock ring out of his pants pocket. He dropped his pants, slid the device over his cock and testicles, and followed it with a condom before slapping Cas on the ass with the end of the lead.

“Did you open yourself up good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to fuck you hard?” Dean asked, slapping Cas again.

“Yes. Please,” Cas moaned, arching his back.

Dean lined himself up and pressed into Cas. He didn't start slow and build; he went straight for a bruising pace, holding the lead in one hand and Cas' hip in the other.

Castiel quietly took the rough thrusts until Dean pulled the lead taut. “Thought you said you'd let me hear you scream,” Dean reminded him.

Cas didn't need to be told twice. He stopped holding his gasps and cries back as Dean rocked into him.

Sweat covered both of them as Dean continued to piston against Cas. “You like being led around like a dog, don't you?” Dean asked, keeping Cas' head up with the lead. Castiel didn't answer, but he cried out as Dean brushed his prostate.

Dean ran his hand down Cas' back, feeling his smooth skin, then he hit him with the end of the lead again. They weren't hard hits, just enough to smart and draw attention. Cas gasped, eating it up.

“You answer when I ask you a question,” Dean told him, hitting him on the ass again between thrusts.

Cas cried out, but he nodded. “Yes.”

“Don't think I'm going to let you come just yet,” Dean told him, giving Castiel two more bruising thrusts before pulling out.

Lubricant dripped between them as Dean pulled back. Dean let go of the lead and went to the box again. He removed a thick vibrating plug and as well as the spreader.

Dean lubed the plug before pressing it into Castiel's ass, pulling it back out to the widest part then sinking it back in. When it was in place, Dean took Castiel's right foot and secured his ankle in the spreader, then he did the same with the left one. When Castiel was secured with nowhere to go, Dean picked up the remote and sat down on the sofa across from where Cas knelt.

Castiel couldn't see Dean without turning his head, so he had no way of anticipating when Dean would turn the vibrator on. Dean turned it to a middle setting to start, watching Castiel's ass as the vibrator came to life. He could see the cheeks shake as the vibrator powered up between them. Dean didn't hold back from stroking himself this time; Castiel was too beautiful to ignore.

“If you can last twenty minutes, I'll let you come. If you don't, I'll need to teach you some patience,” Dean warned, kicking the vibrator up a notch. “Every five minutes, I'll turn it up, and the last five will be on high.”

Dean watched Cas' behind until he turned the power up, then he went around and pressed his cock between Castiel's lips. “Show me how much you enjoy this,” Dean told him.

Castiel swallowed him down to the root, bobbing his head and reaching down to massage Dean's testicles. Castiel could give an incredible blowjob.

Dean checked his watch and turned the notch up again. Cas almost choked on him, pulling back to let out a long whimper. Dean looked down Cas' spine to were the end of the plug shook between his ass cheeks. That had to be getting tender, but Castiel stuck through it.

Dean pulled his cock from Castiel's mouth before turning the vibrator up the final notch. Castiel cried out as the plug shook against his prostate. Dean ran his fingers through Cas' hair and rubbed his shoulders as Cas sobbed from the stimulation.

“Only four and a half minutes left, and you can come,” Dean told him. Dean watched him carefully as Cas tried to hold on. He was sweating heavily and every other breath was a gasp or a moan.

Dean took the lead and pulled, so Cas knelt straight up instead of leaning over the back of the love seat. That seemed to snap something in him and as soon as he was straight, Dean watched come paint the back of the love seat, as well as his chest, as Castiel screamed through his orgasm—no power to stop it as it wrung every last drop out of him in jerking pulses.

Dean was fast enough to catch Cas before he collapsed off the couch, and he turned the vibrator off as he held Cas' shaking shoulders.

“Breath with me. You're okay,” Dean told him.

“Didn't make it,” Cas said, but his voice was absolutely wrecked.

“Right now, I want you to just breath with me,” Dean told him, checking the stopwatch on his phone. Cas had missed it by ten seconds, but he was in no condition to sustain a punishment, and he had certainly earned his orgasm, so Dean wasn't about punish him for it. Cas trusted him, and part of the responsibility placed on Dean was to know when enough was enough, even when Castiel didn't. They could discuss it afterward, but for now, Cas needed to come down.

Dean quickly unfastened the collar, climbing over the love seat so he didn't have to let go of Cas. He undid the spreader and helped Cas lie down on his side. When Cas was lying comfortably, Dean carefully removed the collar then the plug. Cas whimpered as it stretched his aching hole on the way out.

Dean rubbed his shoulders gently for several minutes while Cas calmed down. When Castiel's breathing was no longer labored and the shaking had ceased, Dean went and got water, baby wipes from the bathroom, Cas' robe, and some blankets.

“I know you're going to want to write as soon as your steady enough, but I need you to drink this right now,” Dean coaxed.

Cas did as he was told, while Dean wiped down his belly and between his legs. When Cas was somewhat clean, Dean helped him into his thick robe then pulled him over to the couch. Dean wedged himself against the corner and pulled Cas down to rest against his chest.

Cas would have room to write while still being secure in Dean's arms.

“I need a cigarette,” Cas groaned.

“Just give yourself a few more minutes. You pushed yourself to the limit there,” Dean said, rubbing Cas' arms.

Castiel grumbled, but he didn't reach for his pack. Instead, he got comfortable against Dean's chest.

“I've never had absolutely no control over an orgasm before,” Cas told him.

“Was it too much?” Dean asked, stroking his fingers through Cas' hair.

“I think I enjoyed it. Felt kinda shameful having no control over my own body,” Cas admitted.

“Did it hurt?”

“Nothing I couldn't handle.”

“You would've told me if you couldn't?”

“Yes, I would've said Garrison, but I didn't because I was good,” Cas told him.

“That going to make the cut for the album?” Dean teased, placing a soft kiss to Castiel's tattooed neck.

“I could write an entire album just about that scene,” Cas told him sleepily. “You didn't get off.”

“I'll be fine. We still have tonight to get me off if you want to,” Dean told him. Truth be told, Dean would've come right along with Cas if he hadn't had a sudden adrenaline rush as Castiel listed almost right off the sofa.

“I'd like that, Dean,” Castiel said, eyes drooping shut. “Who's Alastair?” he asked, sounding more asleep than awake.

“He's another fighter.”

“You have history,” Castiel said, stifling a yawn.

“You picked up on that from a few minutes of conversation?” Dean asked.

“Just talking about fighting him made you uncomfortable. That's why I started massaging your shoulders. I wanted to touch you while you talked to your manager, but you hadn't given me permission,” Cas told him. That gave Dean pause. He wasn't used to anyone picking up on his inner turmoils, other than his brother, but that was one of the reasons he kept his career and Sam far apart; Sam knew him too well, and he knew when fighting was messing with his head. Dean hadn't expected Castiel to pick those details up so quickly, or ever.

“I was fine. I'm just getting sick of his camp challenging me,” Dean sighed, wrapping his arms around Cas and taking comfort from his presence. Castiel didn't call bullshit, which Dean appreciated. He could tell Cas knew it was though.

“May I ask about the history you have, or is that too personal?” Castiel wove their fingers together and squeezed Dean's hand. Dean made the split second decision to trust him with one of his greatest fears.

“It was a long time ago, before I made it in legit circles. He'd already broke into the legit stuff, but he still came down to the underground to pick on the fresh meat,” Dean said, burying his face in the thick robe around Cas' neck for a moment. Cas didn't say anything, giving him time.

“One night, I got thrown in the cage with him. My brother had come with me and watched me take a beating for two rounds. Alastair taunts his opponents—he can read body language, find things that sting. He hurled everything he could think of at me, but I kept going, taking what he threw at me. He fucked me up real good. It was probably the worst beating I'd ever taken in a fight, but I never tapped out, and it takes a hell of a lot to knock me out. So, I just kept taking it, and then he told me that when he finished with me, he was going to have fun doing the same to Sam in the parking lot. He had a whole entourage of guys with him who looked like they wanted a good fight too. I had a broken wrist and at least two cracked ribs, and I just didn't know how the hell I was going to protect Sam,” Dean explained, squeezing Castiel's hand tightly as he remembered feeling completely helpless.

“I tapped out. Only time I've ever tapped. I got up so fast when the ref pulled him off me, and I was running for Sam. I didn't even stick around for my money. It was humiliating, but I was terrified for my brother. I called Bobby and Benny to meet us in the lot, and they brought Bobby's friends Rufus and Ellen. Alastair's been gunning for a rematch ever since. The man has an obsession,” Dean explained.

“They know, and they still want you to face him?” Cas asked, sounding awake again.

“They know they picked us up from an illegal fight. I made Sam swear to never tell them what happened. They figured I was just too beat up to drive and didn't want to get mugged for the cash I had on me. Little did they know I had no cash. Pros can't do the illegal fights, so they never would've known he was there,” Dean told him, remembering the way Alastair had leered at Sam. He still shuddered at the thought of facing him again.

“You shouldn't fight him. You don't need to face your nightmares to be a better man. Sometimes walking away from them is the better choice,” Cas told him, squeezing his hand again. Castiel turned in his arms just enough to look him in the eye, and Dean saw his sincerity. He didn't want Dean to go through that again for anything.

Dean didn't know what to say. Everyone had been pushing for this fight for so long that they just thought Dean was being a stubborn ass as usual, but Cas saw through it. He'd known right away that there was more. And when he'd heard it, he'd still stood by Dean's choice, even if it might be the coward's choice.

“Thanks Cas,” Dean said. He didn't kiss him or tell him no one had taken his side like that before. Sam would, but he didn't want Sam to know he was even on Alastair's radar. Sam just wanted Dean out of fighting, and that wasn't the same as supporting his decisions.

Instead, Dean just laid with Cas as Castiel fell back to sleep. According to his watch, it was only 10:30, so Dean couldn't really blame Cas for doing it. The man really did seem like he didn't rise before noon unless the world was ending, and maybe even then he'd only rise at eleven.

Dean let himself drift off as well, since there wasn't much else to do, only waking when Castiel reached for his pad and cigarettes. Dean pushed himself back a little, so Cas could sit up against him. Cas just nodded his thanks and started groping around by Dean's pocket for the lighter he knew Dean had.

“Don't hold out on me. It's been over an hour,” Cas grumbled, and Dean reached down to get the lighter for him.

“You're very prissy in the morning,” Dean told him, adjusting himself so Cas wasn't crushing his nuts.

“You're the one that insisted I get out of bed early.”

“Well, you have an album to write, and we've only got two more days of sex left for you to gather inspiration from. I was being practical.”

“You just wanted to watch me come all over the sofa. They're going to charge me for that if it doesn't come out,” Cas told him, pointing to the large smear of come on the back of the love seat.

Dean shrugged, not at all sorry. “You get what you pay for.”

“I'm not paying you.”

“Exactly. Now, write your songs. You're less of a dick when you're writing,” Dean said, slipping his hands inside the collar of Cas' robe and massaging his shoulders.

Cas started writing as soon as his cigarette was lit. Dean didn't read over his  shoulder . He wasn't sure that Cas would appreciate that, and it really wasn't any of his business—he was here to inspire, not critique. So long as Castiel didn't put his name in any of his songs, Dean really had no say in it. He didn't want any say.

He was curious though. Castiel was tight lipped about emotions. He liked some pain with his pleasure, but that wasn't an emotion. Even when he talked about his family, Dean had detected the bitterness, but Cas' tone had been mostly clinical.

Castiel's music was emotional. It wasn't whiny or an outlet for pent up pain, but he wouldn't be as loved as he was if his music didn't ring true on an emotional level. Hell, Castiel wouldn't be so interested in experiencing everything he wrote about if he didn't care if he infused his emotion in it.

So, maybe Dean was a little interested in the lyrics because he wanted to know how this whole experience made Castiel feel. Dean's own emotions were confusing; he hadn't expected to enjoy this as much as he did. He hadn't expected to enjoy being with another man so much in this way. Dean had been with several in the past, but it was little more than mutual blowing off steam.

He'd had rough sex before, but this was different. It didn't need to be rough for Dean to have Castiel's complete  surrender . In fact, most of what they'd done, Dean wouldn't file under rough in any sense.

Dean just wanted to know if Castiel was feeling more than he expected the way Dean was. It wasn't like Dean wanted to propose to Castiel, or even ask to continue this when their time was up. He was just feeling. Maybe it was a little of that freedom Cas had talked about after their one scene.

“You're thinking quite hard back there,” Castiel said.

“How do you know?”

“I asked you what you wanted to do this evening three times, and you've yet to answer me,” Cas told him, drawing on the margin of the pad.

“Sorry.”

“I'm not complaining. I do the same when I'm writing.”

“We should go out tonight,” Dean said, suddenly wanting just a regular night with Cas, to hangout and be friends.

“Isn't that counterproductive to the whole 'keeping this a secret' clause?” Castiel asked, not sounding like he leaned either way on the matter.

“It's not like we're going to be having sex in a restaurant or something. It's just two guys out for a good time in Vegas,” Dean told him.

“So what? You want to grab dinner? Then tuck some twenties into a strippers g-string, so no one could possibly guess that we're fucking?” Now Castiel sounded a little annoyed.

“Or we could grab dinner, hit a casino or a club. I don't want people knowing my sex life. That doesn't mean I don't want people knowing I'm friends with you or seeing me with you,” Dean told him. “Not that I need people to see us together. I'm not looking to leech off your popularity. I just want to have dinner with you.”

“We've eaten together here. We aren't going to accomplish anything at dinner.”

“Maybe not, but we need to eat, and maybe if we get to know each other better, our scenes will get even better,” Dean suggested.

“So now you want to dissect me for the sake of our sex life?”

Dean wasn't sure where the sudden hostility came from, so he backed off. “Forget I mentioned it. There something you want to try before the week is up? I don't have any obligations tomorrow, so tonight or tomorrow might be a good time to try it,” Dean told him. It stung. He wasn't sure what was going on in Cas' head all of a sudden, and he felt like asking would only make him more defensive.

“I trust your judgment. Maybe push further, but nothing specific,” Castiel said.

Dean wasn't sure how Castiel could trust him so implicitly when it came to sex, but suddenly clam up at the idea of them being friends. Dean shook his head.

“Yeah, okay. I'll come up with something while I'm out this afternoon. You need anything before I get going?”

“I'm fine.”

“Okay. You can text or call if you need anything.”

“I know,” Castiel told him.

They fell into silence again until Dean had to leave. He offered to get Cas anything again before he left, but Castiel denied him. Dean grabbed him two more bottles of water anyway, before pulling on his wrinkled and stained suit and heading down to hail a cab.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Dean stepped onto the elevator to Castiel's room. He was once again wearing a stuffy suit, but this time he'd had the foresight to pack an overnight bag. Benny had been in his suite that afternoon to witness his walk of shame arrival, and it had been pretty obvious what Dean had been up to.

The elevator dinged, and Dean stepped into the suite. His eyes were immediately drawn to Uriel, who was leaning against one of the stone pillars around the fountain.

Dean felt like he was about to be told never to come near Castiel again, but then Cas walked out of the master suite in a pair of leather pants and a one of those linen shirts he was so fond of. His hair was styled to look like someone's hands had just been all over it, and was definitely wearing eyeliner as well as several piercings that he usually kept out when they played.

“You got an obligation?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked up from were he was fastening a pair of leather cuffs around his wrists.

“You're here,” Cas said.

“Yeah, and you look like you're leaving,” Dean said, putting his bag down on the tile floor.

“We're going to dinner. Our reservation is in an hour,” Castiel told Dean, like Dean had somehow forgotten an entire conversation where they said they were going to dinner.

“I thought you didn't want to go out.” Dean was definitely confused.

“I talked to Meg this afternoon, and she told me I was being an ass,” Castiel said as though that explained anything.

“Who's Meg?”

“Our bass player.”

“I thought that was some guy named Gabe.”

“Meg replaced him. There was an incident with some college coeds, and we needed a temporary replacement, but Meg isn't easy to get rid of once she decides she likes it somewhere,” Castiel explained, reaching down to lift the leather collar off the coffee table.

“You're going to wear that?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, but that's kind of heavy, you know, wearing it in public.”

“No one will know. I wear a lot of leather,” Castiel said, holding up his wrists which were now covered in the thick leather cuffs.

“No, I know that. It's just, it's like you're saying you belong to me, or that's what the internet told me,” Dean said, trying not to blush in embarrassment because he was putting more meaning on these things than Castiel was. It was also awkward to have someone else witnessing this.

“I am yours. Until Saturday, I belong to you. Does that bother you?” Castiel asked, trying to fasten the collar, but failing.

“I got it,” Dean told him, stepping forward to do it for him.

“This way if I start being an asshole during dinner, you can grab me by the collar,” Castiel joked.

“Not going to punish you in public. I get enough press about being a ruthless hardass, not going to feed that fire,” Dean told him, pressing a kiss just above where the collar rested on the back of Cas' neck. “But don't think I won't punish you when we get back here,” he whispered for only Castiel to hear.

Dean loved the way Castiel's whole body came to attention with that gentle threat. He rested his palms on Castiel's hips. “Where are we going for dinner?” Dean asked.

“That's a surprise. Lose the suit jacket though. You look like you're going to mass,” Castiel told him, stepping out of his hold and grabbing his pack of smokes off the coffee table.

Dean shook his head, but he removed the jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Castiel smiled, then made eye contact his guard and pointed at the elevator. Uriel gave Dean the creeps; the guy never smiled not even at Castiel. He just looked angry and put out to be babysitting a rock star.

They caught a cab, and Dean was relieved when Castiel took the center seat beside Mr. Uriel. Dean wasn't expecting the Cosmopolitan to be their destination, and certainly not China Poblano.

“Chinese and Mexican?” he asked once they were seated at their table and looking at the menu.

“It's excellent,” Castiel promised.

Dean was pleasantly surprised that the food was actually delicious, and the atmosphere wasn't bad either. Not nearly as out there as Dean was expecting when Castiel kept their destination a secret.

“What made you want to fight?” Castiel asked as he helped himself to another dumpling.

“I was decent at it. I mean, I lost a lot of fights when I started, but I was fifteen going against twenty and thirty year olds. Just seemed like the most viable option for me,” Dean told him, sampling each of the plates of food they'd ordered.

“Fighting was the best option?” Castiel sounded skeptical.

“Probably not the  _ best _ , but the one I chose, and that's important to me,” Dean said. He didn't talk much about his choice to become a fighter. He knew his dad didn't think much of it. A lot of people didn't think much of it, but it was what Dean had.

“I can understand that. It's always been music for me. When I was a child my parents considered music a good outlet for me, but it was always church oriented. When I left home, I had very little. I had been so sheltered, I wasn't even very good at being around people, but people would always drop some change if I sang or played them a song,” Castiel told him, swirling his dumpling in the dipping sauce. “Music probably wasn't the most practical option, but it was...familiar,” he continued, lifting the dumpling and taking a bite. The sauce dripped down over his lips, and Dean found himself licking his own at the temptation.

“Who would've thought we had anything in common?” Dean said, throwing his napkin at Cas. Castiel tossed it right back, licking his lips clean like something out of a porno. The man was toying with Dean, especially with his collar visible in the V of his shirt.

“So, what brought you to Vegas? Were you just going to proposition someone you found in a club?” Dean found himself asking. He still couldn't believe Castiel had just walked up to his room.

“I don't know why I chose Vegas. Maybe because it's Sin City. Maybe I just had faith I'd find what I was looking for, and I did.” Castiel shrugged as he leaned back.

“I've got to ask. Why choose to be submissive? You're king of the world, there are probably a dozen people in this restaurant alone that would kill to have you dominate them, give the orders. Why give yourself to me?” Dean asked.

“I have people get my coffee everyday. I have people to answer my mail for me. I have an army of people at my disposal. It wouldn't be liberating to give orders to my partner. I want all of that stripped away. I don't want to be Castiel. I want to be your pleasure. I want what we do to be all about us—not who or what we are, but how we feel and what feels good. That's honest. If I wrote an album about controlling someone else, it would just be an ego trip. There's so much more to learn by leaving yourself bare than by proving your own power. I already have power. Right now, if I wanted to, I could have this restaurant cleared just for us. That turns some people on, but being loved without that turns me on,” Castiel told him.

“You sound like you know from experience.”

“I became famous rather young. I exploited that power without realizing the consequences. Now, I'm older,” Castiel said, picking up his drink. “I thought we could get cocktails after this. I don't think I'm in the mood for a club or strip show,” Castiel told him, clearly done with that conversation.

“I'm fine with that,” Dean agreed. They fell into easy conversation about Castiel's musical inspiration as well as Dean's favorite bands. It was fun just talking shop with Cas. Cas was extremely knowledgeable about music, but he insisted he didn't know much about other aspects of pop culture. He'd spent months in various libraries reading up on all sorts of musicians and genres while he was homeless.

He turned the conversation to mixed martial arts in the cab to the cocktail lounge. The place definitely had ambiance going for it, bathed in reds and mood lighting. The noise level was even low enough that they didn't need to shout or be in each others pocket to converse.

Dean explained his specialties and what different martial arts focused on, and Castiel seemed to listen carefully. He asked when things didn't make sense, and Dean actually enjoyed explaining it all to him. Most people just told him how cool it was, and their friend of a friend's cousin's brother-in-law was into MMA. Castiel listened and added his own remarks from time to time.

Dean was surprised when he glanced at his watch, and it was getting close to midnight.

“We should probably head back if you want to get another scene in tonight,” Dean said.

Castiel looked at his phone and frowned. “I hadn't realized it had gotten so late.”

“That happens when you get me talking,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

They paid their tab and headed back to the hotel. Uriel left them in the lobby, and as soon as they were alone in the elevator, Dean pressed Castiel into the wall, biting at the skin around his collar. Dean tugged Cas' shirt up over his head. Castiel gasped when Dean pulled the folded lead from his pocket and attached it; Dean had hidden the lead there when he realized that Cas would be wearing the collar all night.

Dean pushed Castiel onto his knees as they reached the top floor. “Go on,” he said when the doors opened to the penthouse. Castiel crawled out of the elevator on all fours, Dean walking behind him with the lead held tightly in his hand.

Dean pulled up as they came to the fountain. “Take off my shoes,” he ordered.

Castiel crawled back to kneel in front of him and he unlaced one black boot, then the other. He carefully pulled them off one at a time, placing them side by side then waiting for instructions.

“Unzip my pants.”

Castiel obeyed.

Dean reached down and pulled his erection out of his pants. He stroked himself just watching the way Castiel's eyes were glued to his cock. Dean pinched the head before stroking himself a few more times.

“You were being a tease at dinner, letting the sauce drip all over your pretty mouth, leaning forward so I could see your collar perfectly, sucking the olives off the toothpick while making eyes at me,” Dean told him. He continued to stroke himself. “That isn't very nice. Do you want to see what it's like to be teased?” Dean asked, picking up speed.

Castiel's eyes widened a little when he realized that Dean meant to get himself off even before the fun began. He breathed a little heavily as Dean tugged him up so his chest was level with Dean's cock.

“You don't get to taste,” Dean told him, stroking faster, feeling the pleasure build in his gut. He was almost there just watching Castiel on his knees, eyes wide, just beautiful. Two more strokes, and Dean felt his balls tighten and he came onto Castiel's chest. “But you're going to wear it until you earn your own,” Dean told him as his body calmed down. He reached down and smeared it all over Castiel's chest. Castiel whimpered when Dean twisted his nipple piercing.

“Before we really get started, do you want me to remove anything?” Dean asked, motioning to the ear piercings, lip piercing, and eyebrow piercing.

“They're fine,” Cas told him.

“If they need to come out at anytime, let me know,” Dean ordered, then he led Castiel into the sitting room, which had somehow become their default playroom.

Dean spent the next two hours bringing Castiel to the brink, only to pull him back without fulfillment. He used everything from the anal beads to the paddles, both at once at one point. Castiel was almost incoherent with pleasure and pain when Dean decided it was time to bring things to a close.

He carefully removed the thick beads from Castiel, soothed his red cheeks with gentle hands. Castiel shook every time Dean touched him, moaning loudly.

Dean rolled him onto his back, spreading his legs enough to fit between them. He rolled on a condom then lifted Cas' legs to the crooks of his arms. He pushed into Castiel slowly, but Castiel still cried out and arched into him.

Dean pressed kisses to his neck as he rocked into Cas. When he had a steady rhythm going, he reached between them and wrapped his fingers around Castiel's cock. Castiel's eyes widened as though he'd forgotten his own cock existed until this moment.

“Did you learn your lesson about being a tease?” Dean asked, keeping his movements gentle and slow.

“Teasing requires punishment. I should respect my master,” Castiel said, gripping Dean's biceps like he might just float away.

“Are you sorry for teasing?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

“Don't lie. You enjoy the thought of being punished.”

“I'm sorry I teased you,” Castiel told him when Dean stopped moving.

“Ask for it.” Dean ordered.

“May I please come?” Castiel asked, writhing in his arms as Dean started again at a faster pace.

“Yes,” Dean told him, snapping his hips hard and stripping Castiel's cock.

Castiel's voice cracked as his body tightened around Dean, and he came between them. Dean fell over the edge again as well and collapsed on top of Cas, exhausted.

Dean looked up at Cas, who looked stoned as he breathed shakily. “You with me Cas? You okay?” Dean asked, reaching up to stroke Cas' face. Cas blinked a few times then cried out again, and Dean felt another dribble of come spread between them.

“Cas?” Dean asked when he got no answer. When he moved to pull out, he felt Cas' body give another violent shake and a smaller dribble released itself from Castiel's now flaccid cock.

Dean tossed the condom on the floor and ran to grab water and a towel. He grabbed Castiel by the shoulders and helped him sit up, then tipped the water to his lips. Water spilled over his chin for a moment before Castiel opened his mouth and sipped from the bottle.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean asked again, holding Castiel tightly to his chest.

“I've never felt anything like that.” Castiel slurred his words, but he lifted his hand to hold Dean's thigh.

“You okay?”

“I feel incredible,” Castiel told him, leaning his head on Dean's shoulder.

“Can you walk?” Dean asked, wanting to get him washed up before he got cold.

“No,” Castiel told him.

“Do you mind if I carry you?” Dean asked him.

“'s fine,” Castiel agreed, kissing Dean's neck sloppily.

Dean lifted Cas into his arms, thanking years of hard workouts because Cas wasn't exactly light. He carried him into the bathroom and placed him in the tub, turning the water on warm and closing the stopper. Then he reached to remove the collar.

“No, want to keep it,” Castiel told him, trying to push Dean's hands away from his neck, but he was too weak and his arms uncoordinated.

“You can put it back on when we're done, but I don't want it to get wet and gross,” Dean told him, cupping his jaw with both his hands.

“You promise I can have it back?”

“Of course,” Dean told him, reaching again to unfasten it and place it on the vanity. He was worried about Castiel, but he seemed coherent enough.

Dean stripped off his own pants and shirt, and tossed his disgusting boxers beside yesterday's pair. Then he climbed into the tub behind Cas, so Castiel didn't just nose dive right into the water at any point.

Dean washed all of Castiel's body, including between his cheeks which was still slick from the reapplications of lube throughout the night. Castiel started to moan as Dean tried to clean him as clinically as possible.

“Dude, I'm not getting fresh. I'm trying to help you,” Dean said as Cas pressed into his touch.

“Everything just feels so good right now,” Castiel told him, and he actually sounded more like himself.

“You sound so stoned.”

“This is better than any high I've had. Every touch feels like electricity. I'm a conduit of pleasure,” Castiel said, spreading his arms out in the water and tilting his head back against Dean's shoulder.

“You've lost it,” Dean told him, but he kissed Cas' cheek, and he washed the come off Cas' belly.

“I want to lose it like this all the time. That was...I don't have words.”

“You also don't have the strength to stand or the sense not to drown if I leave you in here,” Dean retorted.

“I have you,” Castiel said, turning just enough to wrap his arms around Dean's shoulders and kiss him passionately. Dean returned the kiss, stroking Cas' back gently.

If Dean was being honest, he'd never felt anything like it either. They'd been so connected and in sync as the scene played out. He'd been with lovers for years and never felt that kind of connection.

“Yeah, you've got me,” Dean told him.

They stayed in the tub for a while, warming the water when it became cool. Then Dean carried Castiel to bed, stopping long enough for Cas to take the collar off the vanity. He had Dean fasten it again once he was tucked into the covers.

“Can I have my pad?” Cas asked as Dean dried himself off.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean told him, walking out to the sitting room to grab Castiel's pad and his own overnight bag.

Uriel was standing by the bar when he came out in nothing but a towel. Dean froze, eyeing Uriel as he helped himself to a glass of scotch.

“Don't let me stop you,” Uriel said.

“You been here long?”

“Long enough,” Uriel told him. It sounded ominous, but Dean didn't have time for games with Castiel's bodyguard.

Dean grabbed what he came out for and headed back to the room. “We're turning in for the night,” he told Uriel.

“A wise choice.”

Dean shook his head and entered the master suite. Castiel was strumming a guitar, different from the one he'd seen before, when Dean entered the room.

“Thought you couldn't walk,” Dean said, looking around.

“It was on the side of the bed. I am completely capable of rolling,” Cas told him smugly. Dean bit the inside of his cheek because Cas was a bit ridiculous.

“Here's your pad,” Dean told him, placing it beside where Cas now sat cross legged, with only the guitar to cover his nudity.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Dean said, pulling a pair of sweats out of his bag and getting into them. Castiel continued to strum the guitar, slowly leaning back against the mountain of pillows along the headboard. He still looked stoned, but he seemed to have dexterity back enough to play. He could also hold himself up without assistance, though not for too long.

“What's the song?” Dean asked.

“Something my grandmother used to sing to me. It calms me,” Castiel told him, closing his eyes as he played.

“Will you sing it to me?”

“I've written over fifty songs, twelve number one hits, and you want me to sing you the song my grandmother sang me to sleep with?”

“Yeah. I can hear you sing all those other songs anytime I want. That's why the internet was invented, well that and for porn. Can't hear you sing this though,” Dean told him, coming to sit on the bed.

Cas shook his head, but he started the melody over again and after a few bars he started to sing. Dean wasn't familiar with the song, but the way Cas sang it, you could feel the love he felt for it. He didn't rush it, and even though his voice was rough from hours of moaning and screaming, it carried the notes beautifully.

Castiel kept his eyes closed for most of the song, but as he came back around for the final chorus, he turned his head to Dean and opened his eyes. Dean felt his breath catch at the look in his eyes; those eyes seemed to be brimming with all of the emotions he'd been keeping to himself all week. There was pain and fear, but there was something more too because Castiel didn't look sad. He looked like that song made him feel at home, and he looked at Dean like he was welcome wherever that was.

Castiel's voice faded off, but he continued to strum the melody a few more times, still watching Dean. When he finally stopped playing, he turned his head to stare up at the ceiling again.

“I was so high while working on my previous album, I was completely numb. I had an orgasm that lasted forever, and really my only memories of it are what I wrote down as it was happening and right after. When I left home, I closed myself off. It didn't want to feel. They've got a drug for every feeling you don't want to have, and it certainly made those first few years easier, just being numb. That's why I write about sex. I can have sex and write an incredible song about exploring my partner and feeling pleasure...or pain. I can make an entire arena horny without ever getting hurt again. This feels real though. I feel highs and lows, really feel them, and it's not as painful as I remember it to be,” Castiel told him. “I feel human.”

Dean didn't really know what to say. He'd gotten his answer to the question he was afraid to ask, but what could he say to it? They barely knew each other and would be parting soon.

“I'm glad I could help,” he said, lamely.

Castiel smiled at him. “When I saw you through the throngs of people, it was like something clicked into place. I knew you were the one,” Cas told him, picking up his pad and resting it on his guitar as he started to write.

Castiel wrote for over an hour. Every once in a while, he glanced up at Dean and really looked at him, cocking his head like he was looking for something specific. Dean felt like he was getting his portrait drawn instead of watching Castiel work on lyrics.

Dean pulled his laptop out of his bag and did some work while Cas did the same, getting up to get water and snacks as needed. When Castiel needed to piss Dean hovered next to him as he walked into the bathroom, but he left him when he was sure that Cas was steady enough on his feet.

Dean was answering emails when Cas came back out. “I'm going to sleep,” Cas told him, sitting down on the bed heavily.

“Just let me finish this message to my brother, and I'll turn in,” Dean told him.

Castiel slid under the covers and looked at Dean while he typed. “Are you close with your brother?” he asked, resting his hand on Dean's hip.

“Yeah, we're really close. I mean we've had our rough patches. Dad was a bit of a rough patch, but we're closer for it,” Dean told him. “His wife, Jess, is pregnant, and he's freaking out. I swear he'll bubble wrap the whole house if she turns her back on him for a minute.”

Castiel laughed at that, stroking his thumb over the skin just above Dean's waistband. “One of my sisters has six kids, another has four. I'm not allowed to see them. I might corrupt them,” Castiel told him.

“Well, that's bullshit. I bet you'd be a good uncle. You'd sing them back to sleep when they had bad dreams,” Dean said, finishing his email and sending it.

Castiel smiled, eyes closing sleepily. “I doubt they'd approve of any of the songs I know.”

“The one you sang me was beautiful,” Dean told him, putting his laptop on the nightstand and turning out the light.

“Dean, that song was  about a woman whose lover betrayed her ,” Castiel told him. “My mother forbid my grandmother from ever singing it to me again when she heard it.”

“Well you sang it beautifully,” Dean grumbled, flipping onto his stomach.

“I pity your brother. You'll sing his child Metallica and call it a lullaby.”

“Don't talk bad about Metallica.”

“No, of course not.”

Dean had the feeling he was being laughed at, but he let it slide because sleep claimed him before he could come up with a retort.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at end of chapter

Dean woke up blindfolded. His heart rate skyrocketed as he realized he couldn't see, and there was a weight settling on his hips. Dean immediately reached for his face, but two strong hands grasped his wrists.

“Cas?” Dean asked, trying not to panic or lash out.

“It's me. You're safe,” Cas told him, and Dean felt the rising terror ebb.

“What you doing?” he asked once he didn't feel like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

“I want you to feel this,” Cas told him, rocking his hips against Dean's.

“Feel like I'm about to be murdered?” Dean asked skeptically, but he wasn't really angry. He was more intrigued by the game.

“Of course not. I want you to feel what it's like when you take me blindfolded,” Cas told him.

“Oh,” Dean said rather lamely as Cas tugged his sweats down his hips. Dean felt Cas roll a condom onto his very interested cock.

“Would you like to feel that?” Cas asked him, not moving to mount him without permission.

“Sure, why the hell not? I've got nowhere to be,” Dean said, letting Cas guide his hands to his hips. Dean held Cas gently as Cas slowly sank onto his erection.

Dean had to admit that he was completely focused on the feeling of Cas enveloping him. It was strange to give it so much attention, but it was also amazing.

Cas rocked slowly on him, and Dean continued to hold him, guiding Cas' movements just enough to bring them both more pleasure. Cas didn't try to maintain control. That wasn't what this was about; it was about sharing pleasure, not who was leading the dance.

So, Dean let his fingers travel up Cas' torso, trusting Cas to maintain the gentle rock of his hips. He ran his fingertips over Cas' ribs, enjoying the pitch of Cas' gasp as well as the feeling of his skin beneath Dean's fingers. Cas' skin was incredibly soft and smooth, a pleasure to touch.

Dean's whole body felt Cas' reaction when he pressed his thumbs over Cas' nipples. The squeeze of his body around Dean, the subtle dig of his fingers into Dean's pecks, the guttural groan that seemed to linger between them.

Dean was so turned on, and they weren't even going hard. Cas' hips moved slowly, in no hurry. He too explored Dean's body as he rocked—he massaged Dean's shoulders, and Dean felt every steady manipulation in mounting pleasure. Cas cupped his face, and Dean was surprised to feel his lips against his own. It was a gentle kiss, but it was perfect. It wasn't demanding or urgent. They pressed their lips to each other, sliding them against each other but not deepening it.

Dean sighed, letting his hands travel down Cas' taut stomach as Cas straightened up again. He wrapped his fingers around Cas' cock, appreciating the soft skin that covered his hard length. He stroked Cas in time with Cas' own movements, and he was rewarded in soft moans.

Dean wasn't sure how long they moved together, exploring each other before they both reached climax, but it didn't matter. As Dean came, he felt more connected to Cas than he had even during their best scene. Even without seeing him—perhaps because he couldn't—he knew Cas' wants and needs. Without seeing Cas' reactions, Dean had to listen for and feel Cas' pleasure, and it was heady to explore.

As Dean slowly relaxed against the pillows, he reached up to remove his blindfold. As he blinked to adjust to the sudden brightness around him, he noticed that Cas was also removing a blindfold.

“You did it too?” Dean asked, reaching up to settle Cas' hair where it stuck up from the tie he'd been using.

“Can't let you have all the fun,” Cas said, smug as could be.

Dean laughed. Cas was odd; most people Dean knew would've taken advantage of the opportunity to have Dean at the disadvantage. Cas, however, wanted to experience it with him.

“Come here,” Dean said, pulling Cas down and rolling them, so he rested on top of Cas' chest. He leaned in and pressed kisses to Cas' swollen lips. “What other ideas do you have knocking around in there?” he asked, gazing down at him.

Cas smiled up at him. “I don't reveal my secrets, remember?” Cas told him, but Dean could hear the playful edge to it. Maybe it was a side effect of what they'd just done, or maybe he was just beginning to understand Cas' language.

“You do. You're not all that hard to read,” Dean told him, sitting up and straddling Cas this time.

Cas raised an eyebrow in challenge, and Dean grinned. “A true master doesn't need to prove himself to nonbelievers, Cas,” Dean told him. It earned him a snort from Cas.

Dean grinned as he grabbed the room phone off the nightstand. He called room service even as he toyed with Cas' nipples. Cas tried to fight him off, struggling to hold back his moans as Dean placed their order.

When Dean hung up, he looked down at Cas who was breathing heavily, chest flushed and heaving.

“I know that you get really turned on at the thought of being caught in the act,” Dean said smugly, getting off of Cas and walking to the bathroom. He heard Cas mutter something unflattering under his breath, but he was too pleased with himself to care.

Cas joined him only a few minutes later. Dean leaned against the wall as Cas stepped beneath the stream of water. He couldn't take his eyes off the lines of Cas' body. He could understand why the world fawned over Cas—he was gorgeous.

“You like to stare when you think I'm not paying attention,” Cas said, chin still tipped down, so his hair could get wet.

“Oh, is this a competition?” Dean asked, stepping into Cas' space.

“You think you know me better than I know you.”

“I never said that, but if you want to make things interesting, we should probably bet on this,” Dean said, wrapping his arms around Cas' torso.

“You want to put money on how well you know me?”

Dean nodded.

“If you knew me that well, you'd know I abhor gambling,” Castiel told him. Dean was struck by the sudden realization that Cas had never stepped foot in the casinos while Dean was around. He'd gone to a club. He got room service. He never walked the floor.  _ Shit. _

“You took a bet on me,” Dean said the first thing that came to mind.

“You were a sure thing,” Cas said, turning in Dean's arms, looking pleased with himself.

“That's still gambling. Even sure things fall apart sometimes,” Dean said, leaning down to kiss Cas' clavicle.

“No, it's faith. That you wouldn't disappoint.”

“You make it sound so noble, but you wanted to buy me a giant rainbow colored dildo to fuck you with.”

Cas laughed. “I did, didn't I?”

Dean grinned into Cas' skin as he slowly helped Cas wash away the remnants of their morning.

\---

Dean picked through their order as Cas once again settled in to write. Dean wasn't sure Cas would know what day it was when he was writing an album if someone wasn't there to tell him. He was so focused on his pad and his guitar, tuning out the rest of the world. He'd scribbled something out, pick up his guitar and play a few chords, then he'd write something down quickly, and then he'd repeat the process.

Dean chewed on a piece of bacon as Cas walked around the sitting room, strumming his acoustic guitar, humming along with the music. He was in his own world, and he couldn't be bothered with Dean or breakfast. Dean let him off easy until he came back to sit.

As Cas put his guitar down in favor of lighting a cigarette, Dean placed a plate laden with food in his lap.

“You eat or we aren't doing shit today,” Dean told him, lacing his words with authority.

Cas gave him an odd look, but he slowly ate his food before lighting up. Dean sat quietly as Cas finished; there was no hurry to be anywhere today, and Dean was just enjoying the peace it brought.

“I don't want you to go easy on me today,” Cas said out of nowhere.

Dean looked up at him, but Cas' face was blank.

“I trust you. You know what we discussed, what we like. This is our last chance. I want—”

“You ever think that maybe this isn't about pushing each other?” Dean asked, cutting into Cas' demands. “You ever think maybe this turned out to be a way of better understanding each other, getting closer to each other?”

“What?”

“You keep saying would want me to push you, dominate you, control you. You want me to distance us. All of those things imply separating me from you, making you less than me. But so far, every time we come out of a scene, I feel closer to you. I feel awed by you. What we did this morning, that was incredible, and neither of us was doing any pushing or dominating.”

“What are you saying?” Cas asked, pushing his eggs around his plate.

“I don't know.” Dean shrugged, taking another bite of his own food.

Cas gave him a long, measuring look before hanging his head, letting the ash build on the end of his cigarette. “I don't do well with tender emotions. I can sing about them, but I've always been better with going against the grain. I understand what you're saying, but for me, everything is a struggle. If you aren't pushing me, you're pulling me down. If you aren't dominating me, you're suffocating me. If you aren't controlling me, you're letting my demons have me,” Cas said, talking around the cigarette.

“That's bullshit, and you know it. You want to push everything worth feeling away? Then why am I even here? You want to write about that time you let someone tie you up and shove a rubber dick up your ass? You hire a prostitute then you go your separate ways in the morning. You don't sext them pictures of yourself in panties. You don't ask them to keep coming back for a week. You don't trust them with your reputation and body without any sort of payment. You don't let them spend the night, and you definitely don't wake them up with experimental, sensual sex. It's not you vs. me, Cas. It never was. We're in this together, and the rest of the world, the rest of our history and problems don't mean shit while we're here together,” Dean told him, getting up and putting his dish back on the service cart.

Cas watched him silently for several seconds before speaking. “I'm not very good at that,” Cas told him, ashing on his scrambled eggs.

“Well, the thing about being in this together is I've got your back. We'll figure it out together,” Dean said, taking Cas' plate before he could add any more ash to the forgotten meal.

“We can try.”

“Fair enough,” Dean agreed, taking the spot on Cas' lap where the plate had been. “I have a couple ideas for today.”

Cas smiled at him, letting Dean steal a few quick pecks. 

“What would these ideas entail?” Cas asked, pushing his hips up to grind against Dean.

“Patience,” Dean replied, lifting his hips so Cas couldn't rub against him.

Cas frowned. “I prefer instant gratification,” Cas said, running his hand down Dean's chest.

“That's why we're going to work on patience,” Dean retorted, laughing at the way Cas put his whole body into rolling his eyes.

Cas moved beneath him, adjusting himself so he could sit comfortably. Dean smiled at the way he palmed himself so that his knuckles brushed Dean's own erection. Dean didn't stop him. They weren't starting yet—if Cas wanted to get himself frustrated before they even got going, Dean would enjoy it all the more.

“Do you want to hear the rules now, or do you want to get ready first?” Dean asked, running his fingers through Cas' hair and making it stand up in all directions.

“Let's get this started. What are they?” Cas asked, leaning back on the couch and sinking into the cushions.

Dean smiled. “See that chair over there?” he asked, pointing to one of the table chairs near the bar. It was sturdy wood, and it had an opening at the base of the back.

“Yes, I can see that chair,” Castiel said, sounding unimpressed.

“You're going to sit in it and watch me masturbate, but you aren't going to touch yourself at all. I'm not going to tie you up or stop you from touching yourself, but what you do while I get myself off is going to determine your reward or punishment,” Dean explained.

Castiel still frowned at the chair, and it made Dean smile. So far, all of their scenes had focused around Cas, and making Cas feel—whether it was pleasure or pain. Even when Dean got off without him, Cas had been the focus. This was about Dean though. 

Cas was used to being the center of attention, and Dean really didn't mind that. He preferred to make everything about Cas, but Cas asked him to go further. This would be outside of both their comfort zones. Dean would have to perform, and Cas would have to concede the spotlight.

“Okay,” Cas said, looking up at Dean. 

“Good, go put a shirt on,” Dean ordered, getting off of Cas' lap, and walking over to the chair he'd pointed out.

“A shirt?”

“Are you questioning orders?” Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder. Cas was already wearing a pair of linen pants. Dean wanted him completely covered for this, to remind Cas that it wasn't about him. “Long sleeve if you have one,” Dean clarified when Cas finally got up to comply. Dean smiled at the way Cas tried to hide his pout. It was useless because Dean knew he enjoyed being on display. Nudity didn't often make Cas feel exposed, so Dean was going to use the opposite approach.

When Cas returned, wearing a shirt that seemed to match the pants in everything but color, Dean smiled—it was long sleeved and loose enough that it hid the lines of Cas' arms and chest. This would work perfectly for Dean's purposes.

“Take a seat,” Dean ordered. He had moved the furniture so that the chair was placed about three feet in front of the couch. The back of the chair was facing the couch, so Cas would have to straddle it.

Cas did as he was told, thighs bracketing the back of the chair, then he waited for directions as Dean watched him. 

“Get comfortable. I don't care how you sit. You just can't touch yourself at all, and your dick stays in that opening, or I'll assumed you're grinding against the chair,” Dean said, gripping Cas' clothed erection through the hole in the base of the backrest. “You understand?” Dean asked. 

“Yes,” Cas confirmed, lifting his arms to lay across the back of the chair, so he could rest his chin on them. 

“Good.” Dean turned, going over to the box of toys. Dean was impressed by how meticulous Cas was about cleaning them; every day when Dean looked in the box, every toy was neatly placed inside of it and perfectly cleaned. Even this morning, Cas had pushed him away while they waited for their food, just so he could take care of the box. Dean completely forgotten about it after last night.

Dean wasn't looking for toys though, just picked up the bottle of lubricant that he favored and turned to go back to the couch. However, as he did, his eye caught the bullet vibrator that Cas loved on his nipples, so Dean grabbed that too; maybe if Cas saw him playing with his nipples, it would make him aware of his own.

“Another rule,” Dean said, standing between the chair and the couch, right in front of Cas' face.

“Mm?” 

“I don't want to see you pressing your piercings to the back of the chair either. I know you can practically get off on that alone.” Dean placed the lube on the couch, but he kept the tiny vibrator hidden in the palm of his hand for now.

“Yes, master,” Cas said, but Dean could hear the sarcasm attached to the title. 

“Do you respect me?” he asked, sitting on the couch facing Cas, so they could look each other in the eye.

“You wouldn't be here if I didn't,” Cas told him seriously.

“You have a shitty way of showing it sometimes. I don't care if you call me sir or master, but if you choose to, you better make it sound like you mean it,” Dean told him.

Cas lowered his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, leaving off any sort of title this time.

“Better. Now keep your eyes on me. I don't do this for just anyone,” Dean told him, standing so he could push his sweatpants down his hips slowly. That got Cas' attention, and he loved the way Cas' eyes followed his pants' descent.

Dean felt a little awkward standing there at first, but Cas' eyes seemed to devour his entire body; trailing up his legs, pausing at his erection for a heartbeat, then traveling up his stomach and chest until he was meeting Dean's eyes.

Dean felt wanted. It wasn't that he didn't think Cas found him attractive or even that he didn't find himself attractive—this was just new territory for Dean, since he usually focused on his partner's pleasure.

Dean slowly lowered himself onto the couch and spread his legs, so Cas couldn't possibly miss anything. Dean picked up the lube and poured a small dab onto his right palm. He dropped the bottle next to him and reached down with his left hand, which still hid the vibrator, to massage his balls while the lube warmed in his hand.

Cas' eyes were glued to his hand's actions, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips as Dean moaned softly. Dean didn't stop kneading his testicles as he brought his other hand to his shaft. 

Dean hadn't really focused on his own pleasure since he came to Vegas. First, he'd been focused on his fight and keeping in that mindset. Afterward, it had been about Cas. Even the times he'd masturbated, it had been to the things he wanted to do to Cas, and the sounds he wanted to hear from Cas. Now, Dean forced himself to think about the things he liked done to him, and he fulfilled his own desires.   
Cas' eyes didn't stray as Dean slowly pumped his shaft, spreading the lubricant and paying attention to the head as he went. He kept his eyes on Cas, knowing his body so well that he didn't need his eyes to know exactly where to focus. 

He enjoyed the way Cas worried his lip when Dean squeezed the head then drew his hand down to the base, taking a moment just to focus on his testicles again. Dean let his gaze linger on Cas for one more moment, giving himself a firm stroke to really get himself going, then he let his eyes close and his head fall back against the backrest.

Dean let any thoughts about Castiel fade from his mind as he focused on what his hands were doing to himself. He ran his thumb nail along the head of his cock, and he pressed the button on the vibrator in his palm. He gasped as it came to life against his testicles, sending tremors of pleasure up his spine.

He continued to strip his cock as he rolled the vibrator against his balls, brought it lower to press between his testicles and ass, and he couldn't hold back his cry of pleasure. Dean opened his eyes as he pressed it against his sensitive flesh just a little harder. He groaned as he watched Castiel's mouth hang open watching Dean's reaction. He'd lifted his head off his hands, and he was completely focused on Dean.

“Like what you see?” Dean asked, trailing the vibrator up the shaft of his cock, letting it stimulate the head for just a moment. Cas seemed mesmerized by the drop of liquid that clung there.

“You're gorgeous,” Cas told him, glancing up into Dean's eyes before going right back to follow the vibrator's path up Dean's body.

Dean saw the violent shiver that went through Cas as Dean pressed the bullet to his own nipple. Dean gasped, not expecting how stimulating it was; he'd never thought his nipples were especially sensitive, but the vibrator against them was startlingly pleasurable.

“I understand why you like this. Feels like lightning going straight to my dick,” Dean gasped, and Cas actually closed his eyes and tipped his chin up toward the ceiling. Dean could tell that he was having trouble controlling himself.

Dean moved the vibrator to his other nipple, and he didn't hold back the long moan he made as he stroked himself faster.

“Feels so good,” he said, bringing the bullet back to his testicles. He lifted his right leg up and bent it, so his foot rested on the edge of the couch. He knew it would give Cas a better view of everything, as well as giving him more space to work.

Dean brought the vibrator all the way down and pressed it to his hole, so he could feel the vibrations, but it wasn't penetrating him. Dean cried out, feeling pleasure through his entire body.

He hadn't even realized his eyes had slipped closed again until he heard Cas' choked off moan. He opened them to see Cas gripping the back of the chair, knuckles white, looking ready to devour Dean, but Dean tipped his head back again and ignored him.

He pressed the vibrator against his hole a little harder, still not breaching him, and he groaned as he felt his cock twitch in his hand.

Dean hadn't taken this much time to focus on his own orgasm in a long time, and he chose to enjoy it instead of rushing. This was all about patience after all.

Dean gave his attention to his cock after that, gripping the base and pressing the vibrator to it with his palm. With his right hand he played with the head between each firm stroke. The combination of the vibrations and the attention to the head had his cock leaking precome that he used to lubricate his movements.

He heard a gasp as his cock twitched against the bullet. He opened his eyes just enough to see Cas bite his lip against his own pleasure.

“Doesn't my cock look good, Cas? Twitching, glistening, absorbing all of those vibrations?” Dean asked, releasing it. It stood proud, still twitching as another drop of precome beaded at the head.

Dean smiled as it seemed Cas was at a loss for words. Dean thrust his hips up twice, watching Cas as his cock bobbed with the movement. Dean knew that Cas must be painfully hard in his pants. If he'd been really cruel, he would've made Cas wear the leather pants—they would be gripping him like a vice by now. As it was, Cas was sweating from the effort not to touch himself or Dean. Dean was once again impressed by his control.

Taking his cock in hand again, Dean began to jerk himself faster, pulling himself closer to the edge. As he started to feel the pressure building steadily in his gut, he dropped the vibrator to the cushion and brought his index finger to his lips. He sucked the digit into his mouth as he continued to strip his cock quickly.

He made eye contact with Cas as he licked and sucked on the finger, getting it complete wet, then brought it down and pressed it to his ass. Cas' mouth fell open as Dean circled his own hole. He hadn't planned to play with his ass; he hadn't really planned any of this. He was just going with what felt good, and it definitely felt good as he pressed his fingertip inside.

Dean moaned as he wiggled his finger and squeezed the base of his cock at the same time. Cas echoed his moan as they held eye contact.

Dean pulled his finger back, circling it again as he stroked himself. He couldn't pull his eyes away from Cas', loving how intense Cas' gaze was. Dean took both hands away and grabbed the bottle of lube, quickly covering two fingers before pouring a drop right onto his cock. He dropped the bottle and held his cock again, pulling it as he reached down and sank his finger into his ass, all the way down to the knuckle.

Dean gasped at the sudden penetration even though he knew it was coming. He felt full just with one inside him, and he tightened around the digit, just imagining how full Cas must feel when he took some of their toys, or even Dean.

Dean looked up when he heard the chair scrape against the floor. Cas looked ready to break something, but Dean wasn't quite there yet. He pumped his finger in and out until he felt comfortable, then he slowly pressed in his middle finger as well.

Dean felt like he was about to lose it, but he pushed his fingers in further, looking for his own prostate, wanting to feel what Cas felt when they played.

“Dean,” Cas gasped as Dean crooked his fingers up. That's when he felt it; it was as though his entire body was full of electricity. His mouth fell open as he felt his balls tighten, and come pumped out over his hand and stomach.

The pleasure rolled over him in waves as he slowly pulled his fingers out of himself. His foot slipped off of the couch and his legs fell open as he laid there. He couldn't even open his eyes to see Cas' reaction. He felt like he had no power over his own limbs, and he sat still, trying to slowly catch his breath.

“Dean,” Cas said again, sounding like it was in pain.

Dean's head lolled to the side, and he cracked his eyes open. Cas was still gripping the chair like he might just tear the back off of it, completely flushed, and his leg was bouncing like he might explode without releasing some of his pent up energy.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean asked, lifting his hand to rub his stomach, cringing when he ended up spreading the come on it.

Cas' eyes rolled back in his head as he caught Dean's action. “Nothing,” he said, biting his lip. “Can I get you a washcloth?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Cas,” Dean said as he dropped his hand to his side again. While Cas was getting him a cloth, Dean focused on pulling himself together. That had been incredible, but he had a scene to run, and flopping around lethargically wasn't what he had planned.

When Cas came back, he was still shaky, and Dean knew he hadn't taken the opportunity to touch himself while Dean wasn't looking. Dean was proud of him, but he still didn't take pity on him.

“On your hands and knees,” Dean ordered as Cas held out the washcloth.

Cas did as he was instructed, pushing the chair out of the way. Dean took the washcloth from him as he went down. Dean pressed the washcloth to his own forehead, wiping away the sweat that covered his face.

“Clean me up,” Dean told him, pointing to his cock and stomach. “Be gentle.”

Cas leaned forward and licked up the come on Dean's belly. Dean groaned, enjoying the way Cas' tongue dragged over his skin. When his stomach was clean, Cas moved down to take Dean's soft cock into his mouth.

“Don't suck,” Dean told him, and Cas followed the order, lapping at the mess instead. Dean let his eyes close, taking in every gentle sensation.

Cas carefully cleaned him up then waited for further instruction, and Dean took a minute to really pull himself together. “Go get your collar for me, and the stress ball you have in your guitar case,” Dean ordered. Dean had seen the ball on multiple occasions, but he'd never commented on it. Now it seemed like the perfect tool.

Cas pulled back and rose to his feet. He went to complete the order, and Dean watched the way his cock still tented his pants. Dean smiled at him when he returned, holding out both the ball and the collar. “We aren't playing fetch if that's going through you head,” Dean assured him, motioning for Cas to get back onto his hands and knees.

Dean dropped the ball to the couch as he fastened the collar around Cas' outstretched neck. “That feel okay?” he asked, leaning back again. Cas nodded, and Dean picked the ball back up. “Good. I want you to keep my dick in your mouth until it gets hard again. No licking. No sucking. Just holding it there. And I don't want you to move while you do it. I'm going to rest this on the small of your back, and if it falls, you'll be punished,” Dean explained, holding up the soft stress ball. It was light enough that even the smallest movement would dislodge it.

Cas lowered his eyes and took Dean in his mouth again. Dean smiled at his willingness to comply; he must have been feeling the pull in his gut terribly, but he did as he was asked anyway.

Dean gave him a minute to get situated before reached across Cas' back and placing the ball where it dipped. Dean then grabbed the universal remote and turned on the radio. He went through the stations before settling on a classic rock station. He did his best to ignore Cas for the time being.

He could've tried to make it difficult for Cas, but this wasn't about making him drop the ball. Dean wanted Cas to be focused on his own need. He had Dean's spent cock in his mouth as a reminder of Dean's pleasure, and he had the ball on his back to remind him that he couldn't even shift to relieve the pressure between his legs. All of Cas' attention would be drawn to the still present erection that he couldn't relieve without permission. It was all a test of patience and control.

As for Dean, Cas' mouth wrapped around his cock also reminded him of the pleasure he had just experienced, and it drew out his afterglow. Dean just let himself enjoy the music playing softly until he could go again, and he had come so hard that he doubted it would happen quickly.

After about fifteen minutes, Dean looked down at Cas and picked up the ball again. “You can stretch for one minute,” he told him. When Cas didn't straighten up, Dean placed his finger beneath Cas' chin. “You can let go,” he said, raising Cas' chin. His cock fell from between Cas' lips, and Dean bent to press a kiss to Cas' lips. “One minute, starting now.”

Cas slowly got to his feet and walked around the love seat twice. His erection hadn't flagged much at all, and there was a small wet spot on the front of his pants where precome had leaked. When Cas came back and took his position again, Dean leaned forward and tugged Cas' pants down just enough to reveal his ass. Then he placed the ball on the crown of his ass. It wobbled at first, but it didn't fall.

“Same rules,” Dean said, leaning back again as Cas held him in his mouth. Dean could feel his body starting to respond to Cas' mouth, but he wasn't getting hard yet, just aware.

Cas lowered his head so that his face was pressed to Dean's crotch, taking the slightest pressure off his neck. Dean could feel the tension in the room as Cas fought his body for control. He was tired and his body wanted release, but he didn't move. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his jaw must have ached by now.

It was another twenty-five minutes before Dean's cock began to stir. Dean was tempted to fuck Cas' mouth because it felt so good, but that wasn't the reward he wanted to give Cas.

When his dick was fully erect and stretching Cas' lips wide, Dean pushed his fingers through Cas' hair, massaging his scalp. “You did well,” Dean said, moving to rub Cas' shoulders. “Kneel and rest you head against my stomach,” Dean instructed, helping Cas move to rest against him.

The ball fell to the ground, but they both ignored it as Dean began to massage Cas' neck and back while leaning forward. “You don't have to hold back your voice,” Dean said, pressing his fingers deep into the tissue.

Cas moaned loudly. Dean knew it could be a little painful at first, but Cas' moans quickly became those of relief.

“That's right. You showed so much control. I'm going to take care of you. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” Cas gasped. Dean could feel that he was trying to grind against the floor, but he wasn't having much luck while on his knees.

Dean rubbed his back for another minute before leaning back. “Can you get up, or do you want help?” Dean asked. Cas immediately tried to rise on his own, using Dean's knees to steady himself, but he was very shaky. “Careful. I'll help you,” Dean reassured him, pushing himself up and wrapping his arms around Cas' waist.

Dean looked down to see Cas' cock trapped where his pants were tight around his thighs from Dean pulling them down. Dean pushed them down the rest of the way before wrapping his arms around Cas' waist again. “You can lean on me,” Dean offered, and he pulled Cas to him. Cas went with it, stepping out of his pants, and letting Dean guide him to the bedroom.

Dean helped Cas get up onto the bed and stretch out. “Relax, and I'll be right back. I'm just getting the box, not leaving you alone, okay” Dean asked.

“I'll be fine,” Cas told him.

Dean walked out into the sitting room and picked up that box and the lube before grabbing several bottles of water as well.

Cas' hand was wrapped around the base of his cock when Dean came back. Dean hadn't said that Cas could touch himself, but Cas looked like he might explode if he didn't relieve some of the pressure inside him.

“I'm going to take your shirt off and tie you to the bed,” Dean said, lifting the restraints from he box. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Cas let go of his cock and nodded, so Dean climbed onto the bed and eased him out of his shirt. He lifted Cas' right hand first, rubbing the wrist softly before wrapping the leather cuff around it and securing it to the headboard. He did the same with the left, but he left Cas' legs free.

Dean knelt between Cas' legs, looking down at him. He was still flushed, and his breathing was uneven under Dean's scrutiny.

“ You're so gorgeous , Cas,” Dean began, trailing his fingertips up Cas' thighs. “You're eyes are so full of emotion when they watch me, and I just know you're feeling what I am,” Dean continued, massaging the crease when leg met body.

Cas' eyes fluttered closed as Dean pressed his thumbs into the sensitive flesh. He moaned softly as Dean's hands moved to his stomach, wrapping his fingers firmly around his sides. “You're strong. You hold yourself in positions for me that have to be painful.” He massaged up Cas' sides before bringing his hands in to cup his pecs. “And you're so sensitive,” he said, pinching Cas' nipples gently.

Cas arched off the bed, gasping at the attention to his piercings.

“But you have so much control.” Dean leaned over Cas to lave at one nipple, causing Cas to shudder against him. “And you obey my demands so well even when I can tell you want nothing more than to break the rules,” he praised, switching to the other nipple and pressing his thigh between Cas' legs.

“You can move, it's okay,” Dean told him, rubbing against Cas' groin as he said it.

Cas whimpered, moving weakly against Dean, too overwhelmed to do much else.

“I want to worship you, Cas. I want to show you how good you are, how perfect you are. I want you to see how rewarding patience can be,” Dean told him. Cas shook against his body as Dean stretched to mouth at Cas' neck, one hand returning to his nipple. “You don't need to control yourself now. I've got you. Let me take care of y—”

“Garrison,” Cas gasped, shaking violently in Dean's arms.

Dean pulled back instantly. He was confused and felt as though someone had just thrown a bucket of ice on him. He reached up, groping for the release of the restraint.

“Garrison,” Cas repeated, louder this time, when he wasn't instantly free.

“It's okay, Cas, I'm untying you. You're safe. Just take a deep breath,” Dean said, getting the first cuff off and reaching for the second.

Cas' hand immediately gripped Dean's waist, blunt nails digging into his side.

“You're okay, Cas. I'm getting you out,” Dean repeated, fumbling with the buckle because his own hands were shaking. As soon as Cas was released, he scrambled off the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, unbuckling his collar as he went.

He left the door open, so Dean followed, but he gave him some space. Cas put his head under the faucet, turning the cold water all the way up. He left his head under the tap for nearly a minute before pulling up and gasping.

“Cas?” Dean asked tentatively.

“Just give me some space,” Cas said, pulling a towel off the rack and wrapping it around his waist.

“I'll stay over here. Just want to make sure you're steady,” Dean said, feeling dread sink into his gut. He didn't know what he'd done wrong. He hadn't broken any of Cas' rules, and what they had been doing hadn't been nearly as physically intense as their other scenes.

Dean tried to focus on Cas instead of his own doubts as Cas turned the shower on. Dean watched him step into the shower and fist his dick roughly. The muscles in his back were completely tense as he tugged at his cock. He grunted and smacked the tile as he spilled against the wall. He stayed under the water just long enough to rinse his hand.

When he stepped out, he picked his towel back up and staggered past Dean. Dean caught him as he stumbled just feet in front of him.

“Whoa. Talk to me, Cas,” Dean said, muscling Cas into his arms.

Cas gripped his shoulders tightly until Dean carried him out of the bedroom and back into the sitting room. Cas looked relieved to be laid on the couch, and Dean was glad he'd made the decision to take him out of the bedroom.

“I'm going to get you some water, okay? I need you to drink it for me. Please don't have a cigarette right now,” Dean said, running to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. Cas was curled in on himself on the couch when he came back.

“I'll get you some clothes,” Dean told him as he pressed the bottle into Cas' hand. Dean went into the bedroom and got his bag. He knew that Cas favored leather and linen, so he pulled out one of his old pairs of sweats that were as soft as clouds, and he also picked up an old henley that was equally soft. He grabbed a blanket on the way out.

Cas didn't look at him as he helped him sit up and into the shirt. He was of little help as Dean pulled the shirt down his arms and over his stomach. The pants were just as bad. Cas tried to curl up as soon as the shirt was on him.

“You're going to get cold without them,” Dean said, holding up the black sweatpants.

“Just...” Cas bit his lip. “Just give me the blanket.” Dean could tell Cas was trying to work himself through whatever was going on in his mind, so he draped the blanket over Cas, placing the pants within Cas' reach. Once he was covered, Cas pulled the pants beneath the blanket and shimmied into them.

Dean looked away from him, realizing that Cas was feeling exposed. “What can I do?” Dean asked, grabbing his own pants off the floor and covering up.

“I don't know,” Cas told him, rolling so he faced the back of the couch.

“Can you tell me what you're feeling?” Dean asked, feeling useless.

Cas sipped his water slowly before he answered. “Raw.”

That hadn't been the explanation Dean was looking for, so Dean grabbed the chair they'd used earlier and took a seat. He wasn't expecting Cas to say anymore, but after a minute he spoke softly.

“I told you that if you weren't pushing me, you were pulling me down.” He sighed, squeezing the water bottle. It wasn't said an accusation, but it still stung. “I don't let people in. Sex is sex. Sex isn't love. When you used toys on me, that was just pleasure. When you made me watch you masturbate, that was just a show. When you told me I looked good, that was just you talking through your own desire. But then you looked me in the eye when you said that shit. You asked me to give up control, and I can't...I can't,” he repeated in a whisper.

Dean didn't know what to say. He felt like they had been having completely different experiences, but he knew he couldn't tell Cas that that hurt. 

“So...” Dean trailed off, gripping his thigh tightly to stop himself from reaching for Cas. “I'm sorry,” he said instead.

“Don't be. I'm the one—”

“I'm sorry I pushed you. I should've realized that you were uncomfortable. I thought you were enjoying it. I should've been more aware,” Dean cut in, needing to get it out.

“I'm sorry I ruined a good scene.”  
“Shut up. You didn't ruin anything,” Dean told him, resting his arms on the back of the chair. Cas shrugged, and Dean felt helpless again. He wanted to help, but he wasn't sure what he could do. “I want to comfort you, but I feel like that's not what you want,” Dean said, pressing his forehead to his arms in frustration. 

Cas sighed, but he lifted the blanket in invitation. 

“I don't want to make this worse,” Dean said, not getting up.

“Stop being a martyr, Dean. You need this as much as I do.” Cas shook the blanket a little, and Dean quickly moved to slide in behind him. He wrapped his arm around Cas' waist as he fit their bodies together, and Cas laid the blanket over them both. 

“Physically, how are you feeling?” Dean asked as he settled in.

“Drained.” Dean could feel him tense, then slowly relax. “My nuts ache. That's why I got myself off, but they still hurt. Shit, and it felt like it was going to be one hell of an orgasm when you pressed your leg against me.” Cas moved back against him, so Dean held him tighter. “My knees hurt from kneeling, and my back feels tight,” he continued to list his pains. Dean realized he was purposely trying to be more open even if he couldn't talk about the emotional stuff yet.

“I'll get you ice for them.”

“No, stay. We can do it later,” Cas said, gripping Dean's arm to hold it around himself. 

“Okay. I won't move,” Dean promised. He could feel the conflicting emotions coming off of Cas, so he held him close, letting him know he was there. “What else hurts?” he asked, so Cas could focus on the physical.

“I still feel half aroused,” Cas told him, squeezing Dean's hand. “Like when you need to pee, but you have an erection, so you're torn between getting off or relieving the pressure in you bladder. It's like that, but the pressure's in my gut, and everything is just a confusing mixture of frustrations because I don't know how to get rid of it.”

Dean stroked his thumb over the shirt covering Cas' stomach, and Cas shuddered. “Maybe a bath would help you calm down, like last night,” Dean suggested. 

“I don't know if I'm ready to take my pants off yet,” Cas admitted, adjusting against Dean.

“What if I grabbed you a pair of boxer. You can even leave the shirt on,” Dean offered. 

“I don't have boxers.”

Dean laughed. “Of course, you don't. I've got a couple clean pairs in my bag. I'll bring you one then start filling the tub.” Dean got up when Cas nodded. He did as he promised, and while Cas changed from Dean's sweatpants to his boxers, Dean filled the tub with hot water and started the jets. Then he went into the bedroom and removed any signs of their scene from sight.

When he came back out, Cas was sitting up with the blanket wrapped around him. Dean helped him up without a word and led him to the bathroom. “I didn't realize this could make me feel so off balance,” Cas said as Dean eased him into the water. 

“Yeah, um, I did some reading...”

“You don't have to be embarrassed that you did research. Clearly, I should've done some more,” Cas told him, patting Dean's hand.

Dean bit his lip. “It's a hang up from when I was younger,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well, when we're here, it's just us. Together,” he repeated Dean's own sentiment. Dean smiled down at him, kneeling beside the tub.

“Thanks. The sites I went on said you can feel pretty screwed up if you come out of a scene real fast, like when you safeword. It can happen regularly too if you don't take care of yourself afterward.”

“That's why you nag me so much,” Cas teased, smiling at Dean and reaching for his hand again. “You should probably join me.”

“Didn't want to assume,” Dean told him, rising before tugging off his pants. He'd put a pair of boxers on too, and Cas shook his head fondly.

“I don't like feeling breakable. Probably why I don't like feeling like my lovers really know me,” Cas said, moving so Dean could sit, then situating himself in Dean's arms.

“I know how you feel.”

“I know, which makes it worse. I feel like I can trust you. I want to let you in. I wanted to finish that scene, but...I'm afraid.”

“I'm not going to hurt you, Cas. I promise. I don't care if this ends in two days; you can count on me if you need me. You need someone in the middle of the night, I'll pick up my phone. You need to vent, I'll listen. If you feel like you are right now, I'll get on a plane and come sit in a bathtub with you. I don't let a lot of people in, but I look out for the ones I do,” Dean said, pressing a kiss to Cas' neck. “That okay?”

Cas burrowed further into his arms, nodding that it was. “I'll try to let you in,” Cas said, sounding unsteady. 

“You already have. You're letting me in right now,” Dean told him, running his hands up and down Cas' arms even though they were still covered in his shirt.

They laid there in silence for a while, holding on to each other to anchor themselves. When the water had cooled, and the jets were starting to make Dean's skin itch instead of massaging it, Dean turned them off.

“How are you feeling?”

“I still ache all over, and I'm horny, against my wishes,” Cas said, making no move to leave Dean's embrace.

“I think we should probably get out. Are you up for the bed, or the couch again?”

“Bed's fine.”

“I'll go grab you some more clothes,” Dean said, pressing a kiss to Cas' cheek. “I'm unplugging the tub,” leaving the concern that Cas might drown unspoken. 

“I can sit up on my own,” Cas deadpanned. 

“Didn't say you couldn't.”

“It was implied,” Cas scowled, but Dean could tell he wasn't that irritated by Dean's worrying.

Dean was quickly running out of clothing, but he grabbed the sweats he let Cas borrow as well as another shirt and pair of boxers. Cas changed alone after Dean helped him out of the tub, and Dean went into the bedroom to pull on his own clothes, waiting for Cas to join him. He ordered room service as he sat there.

Cas moved slowly across the room to sit on the bed. Dean grabbed him some ice while he got comfortable, then they iced his knees and back. Cas groaned as he settled in with the ice, but once he was finished with it he said that he felt better. 

Dean was emptying the ice into the sink when their food arrived. Dean went out and tipped the man before bringing the food to Cas. Cas looked queasy just smelling it, so Dean stuck to the sports drink he'd asked them to bring, having Cas sip it slowly.

Dean ate an apple as he sat back on the bed, pulling Cas to him. “What can I do?” he asked, rubbing Cas' shoulder.

“Just stay with me.” Cas ended up falling asleep in Dean's arms. Dean watched the sun through the curtains for a while before falling asleep as well.

Dean woke to the sound of Cas panting heavily. He rolled over, blinking away sleep. “You okay?” he asked, touching Cas' shoulder. Cas grunted in frustration. “What's wrong? You're all wound up again,” Dean asked, wrapping his arm around Cas. He quickly realized that Cas had his hand shoved in his pants. “Want me to leave you alone?” he asked, not wanting to push him.

“Can't relax enough to get off, but I can't relax until I get off,” Cas said through gritted teeth.

“Can I touch you?” Dean asked.

“Go for it.” Dean nudged Cas' hand out of the way and replaced it with his own. “I was just doing that. I don't see what's going to be so different about you doing it.” Dean didn't tell him that he was being melodramatic because he knew that Cas was feeling frustrated and vulnerable, but Cas was definitely being melodramatic.

Dean bit his lip to hold back his comments. Instead, he pressed his palm to Cas' abdomen and slowly lowered it to his erection. He wasn't exceptionally hard, but his stomach felt like it hand a brick in it; it was so tense. 

Dean stroked him slowly, kissing the back of his neck as he did so. When Cas relaxed a hair, he pressed himself against Cas' back, trying to help him feel secure. When Cas released a soft moan, Dean rolled him onto his back. “Can I blow you?” he asked, still stroking him inside his pants. 

“You okay with that?” Cas asked him, biting his bottom lip.

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

Cas nodded, so Dean removed hand from his cock and slowly pulled the sweatpants down. When they were off, he waited for Cas' nod before removing his boxers. When Cas was naked to him again, he didn't waste time pressing kisses to his thighs or stomach. He simply took Cas in his mouth and massaged his testicles with his palm. 

Cas arched off the bed when Dean took him all the way into his mouth. He sucked softly before pulling his head back and licking at the tip of Cas' cock. Cas reached down to bury his fingers in Dean's hair as Dean took him down again. 

Dean continued to take Cas all the way in, then played with the head. He didn't let his fingers wander from his balls, not wanting to overstimulate Cas—he had a feeling that was the whole problem. Cas held him by the hair, guiding him to ease up or take more. He wasn't gentle, but Dean was glad he didn't feel like he had to be tentative.

“I need more,” Cas gasped when he was getting close. 

“What do you need?” Dean asked, pulling up only to replace his mouth with his hand.

“Can I?” he asked, gesturing that he wanted to get up.

“Of course. You're in charge,” Dean told him, moving to switch places. Cas straddled Dean's chest, pressing his hips to Dean's sternum. Dean was a little surprised, but he nodded when Cas looked at him for permission.

Dean gasped as Cas braced himself and began to thrust against Dean's chest, balls and cock pressed against him. Cas rutted hard, and Dean put his hands on his waist to steady him. 

Cas cried out as he came, dribbling come over Dean's chest and smearing it in as he continued to ride him He groaned as a second wave hit him, and a smaller dribble slipped from him. Dean held him tightly as his whole body shook with relief.

“You okay?” Dean whispered, worried he might startle Cas, who was looking completely wiped out.

“Yeah,” he replied, but then collapsed to Dean's side like someone had cut his strings. “I've made a mess of you,” he said, reaching up, but Dean caught his fingers. 

“I'll wash it off. No point getting you messy too,” he told him.

“That'll leave a bruise.”

“You're come? There something you aren't telling me?” Dean teased, and Cas punched him lightly.

“You know what I meant.”

“I get hit for a living. You dick isn't going to be what puts me out of commission.”

“So you think,” Cas snorted.

“You feeling any better?” Dean asked, ignoring Cas' comment.

“Well my nuts have stopped aching from needing to get off, but now they ache for a different reason.”

“I can get you some ice for that.”

“Keep your ice fetish away from my balls,” Cas said, shoving Dean.

Dean snorted, but he leaned in and captured Cas' lips in a gentle kiss. “You should try to eat if your stomach has settled.”

“Maybe soup,” Cas said. 

“Pick one, and I'll tell them to bring it up,” Dean said, pressing another kiss to Cas' lips.

They laid together a few minutes, kissing and teasing each other before Dean ordered Cas some soup and cleaned up his chest while Cas went back to the couch to write. Dean found him smoking and strumming his guitar when he came back, fully dressed again.

“What do you think of this song?” Cas asked, picking up the melody. “I'm thinking of calling it 'Anything but Rainbow.'”

Everyone's got their hang ups

Mine happens to be a 12 inch long, two inch wide

rainbow colored dildo

 

He played a flourish before singing again, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. Dean couldn't stop his mouth from hanging open at the crude song.

 

I'm a neutral kind of guy

and I have my reasons why

I won't fuck you with a rainbow colored dildo

 

Few people have to ask

why I wouldn't slap your ass

with a rainbow colored dildo

but if you really want to know

I'll tell you, oh oh oh

It makes me laugh hysterically

Why not black or green or even pink?

Why must it be

a rainbow colored dildo?

 

Cas kicked his playing up at the end before launching into howls of “dildo” over and over until the elevator opened, and the butler walked in with another service cart. Cas' voice cracked as he started laughing.

Dean ran his hand over his face, trying to keep his own composure. He thanked the butler, Joshua, and apologized for the noise. Joshua just smiled at them and told them he'd come back for the trays later.

As soon as the elevator doors closed Cas sang, “dildo,” one more time, trailing off when Dean threw a pillow at him.

“Glad to see you're feeling better,” he said, taking Cas' guitar away from him.

“What? I wanted to show you that I know you too. Remember we had a bet? I think that song means I am the victor,” Cas announced.

Dean's mouth hung open as he looked at Cas' smug smile. “That song proves nothing.”

“Come on. You threatened to not have sex with me if I bought one. You're lucky I didn't sing you the verse about it threatening your masculinity,” Cas scoffed.

“I am not threatened by a rainbow dong, Cas.”

“Would you rather I used emasculated?”

Dean reached for another pillow, but Cas tugged him down into his lap. He stretched up to nip at Dean's lips, and Dean met the challenge with a lingering kiss.

“Thank you for handling everything so well,” Cas murmured against his lips.

“I don't really feel like I did,” Dean admitted, settling in with his thighs bracketing Cas.

“You did. You stopped, and you got me out of there. You stuck with me even though I was making it difficult,” Cas said, stealing kisses as he went.

“Not going anywhere,” Dean promised.

“I get that. I wish it didn't take freaking out to figure it out though,” Cas said, nuzzling Dean's cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

“All over the place. Like I can't pull all my pieces together.”

“Okay, well let's take it easy the rest of the day,” Dean suggested.

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea,” Cas agreed.

“You aren't going to fight me on this?”

“Even I know when I'm against an opponent I can't beat, and you've known what's better for me than I have all week. Maybe it's time to trust you.”

“I thought you already trusted me,” Dean said, but he knew what Cas meant. There was trust and then there was trusting someone with all of the dark bits and jagged edges.

“I can always sing you the rest of the song.”

“Drink your soup before it gets cold,” Dean ordered, getting up to push the cart over. Cas howled once behind his back, and Dean shot him a put upon look. Cas just gave him a lopsided grin though it didn't reach his eyes.

The rest of the afternoon, Dean held Cas while Cas either wrote or slept. Sometimes he'd be in the middle of scribbling something down when he'd nod off. Dean made sure he was comfortable and held him until he woke again. His mood had it's ups and downs too. For the most part it was subtle, but Dean could tell when he was feeling completely unsteady.

They sat in the hot tub on the private balcony when the sun went down and Cas said he felt like he had something crawling under his skin. Dean recognized the symptoms of withdrawal, but he didn't know what it was from or if it was just Cas' reaction to the scene.

As they sat in the hot water, Cas sat in Dean's lap grinding against him slowly. Dean pressed kisses to his chest and throat, just letting Cas take the lead. They didn't get off, but it felt good just to touch.

Cas ended up fitting himself against Dean's side and gazing up at the night sky. There was too much light pollution to see much, but he didn't seem to mind.

“At the beginning of the week, I felt like we had an eternity. A whole week of sex with one person. I haven't done that in ten years. Even working on albums, I don't just use one person for inspiration. I write as we tour. I wish I knew the name of every groupie I wrote a song about. Hell, I wish I even knew the names of all the ones that made it onto albums.” Cas didn't take his eyes off the sky, though he groped around for his pack of cigarettes.

Dean grabbed them for him and placed one between his lips and lighting it. Cas nodded his thanks, taking a deep drag.

“So, one week seemed like it would stretch on and on, but I forgot how fast time goes when you meet someone that means something. I feel like it's barely been a day, but we barely have that left,” he mused, pausing to take another lungful of smoke.

“It did go fast.” Dean agreed, taking Cas' cigarette from between his lips and taking a drag as well. It had been years, but that first breath always calmed him.

“When I left home, it was the same way. Days seemed to disappear because I felt free, and when we hit it big, days just melted into each other. That had to do with the drugs, but it was all so new and exciting. I've just been plodding forward for so long, I forgot how this felt.”

“Yeah, I've been fighting so long that I'm only just understanding that there's more to life than training and fighting,” Dean said, realizing that he felt stuck but fought it any time someone tried to pull him out of the mud. He was like a wild animal that bit the person trying to help them out of the trap.

Cas shook his head, closing his eyes. “My mother used to tell me that the devil was in me when I talked about being in a band. ' James , why must you always fight god's plan?' or ' James , god gave you hands to worship him with, how could you worship Satan with those hands?' I don't remember which punishment was worse, when she caught me playing Zeppelin on the guitar or when she caught me masturbating. She loved to tell me I was no good, though. Loved to make an example of me to my siblings. She would tell me that if I couldn't be good, at least I would make them good. But nothing could save me in her eyes when she found my collection of bongs, dirty mags and issues of  _ Rolling Stone _ .” Cas laughed, but it turned into a cough. He squeezed his eyes closed as he calmed down.

“I don't know what shocked her more, the Red Hot Chili Peppers holding their junks on the cover of  _ Rolling Stone _ or the men holding each others junks in the skin mag. I couldn't be allowed to taint the others. My uncle Zachariah told me I was beyond help, and that I needed to leave. Shit, I forget why I was telling you this...oh yeah...” he paused, stubbing out his cigarette. 

Cas sat up and looked Dean in the eyes, cupping his face with his hands. “I'm defective.”

“Cas, no—”

“Just hear me out, Dean.”

Dean nodded, letting Cas speak because he owed him that.

“I've always been backwards. I've always rebelled and taken the wrong path. I've never been good. It's the one thing I know. It's been my constant. When things don't work out, it's the comfort that pulls me through. I'm broken, but I'm still here. So, today when you looked at me like I wasn't defective, like I was something wonderful, it fucked with my head. I couldn't breathe and I felt like I was drowning because if that isn't true...If that crutch that's seen me through isn't real, then everything is a lie.”

“Cas,” Dean said, pulling Cas against his chest. “You aren't defective. You change people's lives with your music. You brighten people's days. You talk to your fans when then approach you, and you have to know how awesome that makes them feel. You put everything into your music. It's not conventional, but you aren't putting any less effort into making something awesome for your fans. I don't know a lot of people that would agree to being someone's submissive for a week just to write an album. You opened your place to me. You tease me with songs about my sexual hangups...” That earned him a snort from Cas. “...You wake me up with awesome sex. You fight your deepest scars to open up to me even when you're feeling vulnerable. Those wings on your back aren't a reflection of you soul, Cas. They're a reflection of the things people have done to you.”

“How do you know that's what they mean?” Cas asked, breathing raggedly against Dean's neck.

“What else could they mean?” Dean asked, finally letting himself trace the lines of the beautiful tattoo that encompassed Cas' entire back.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept that,” Cas told him.

“Then know that I don't see you as defective. I think you're incredible, and I'm grateful that I got to get to know you,” Dean said, trailing his fingertips over Cas' flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I'll try to remember that.” Cas didn't let go of Dean, so they sat together, intertwined, for several minutes.

“So...”

“Yes, Dean?” Cas asked, sounding amused already by Dean's tone.

“James?” Dean asked.

Cas sighed. “You didn't think Castiel was my given name, did you?” Cas asked, nipping Dean's should.

“I figured you were like Cher or Prince. You certainly have a leather fetish. I just couldn't figure out if Castiel was your first or last,” Dean admitted, feeling a little dumb.

Castiel laughed softly, kissing the side of Dean's neck. “My name is Castiel. I have no first or last name, just Castiel,” he whispered into Dean's ear, before sucking on the lobe.

“Then what about James?

“James is dead. I may carry the same scars as him, but I'm not him, and I never want to be him again. He was loyal to people that didn't love him, devote to a God who abandoned him, lost without even realizing it,” Cas explained.

“Sorry, it wasn't any of my—”

“I don't mind you knowing who I was, Dean, but that's not who I am now. I don't have a family, so the name they gave me is dead to me.”

“We should get inside. We've been in here a long time,” Dean said when he realized that the air was getting colder, and Cas was staring to shiver in his arms.

When they went inside, Cas pulled him down onto the bed and started to kiss him insistently. They ended up having slow sex, Dean spooned against Cas, rocking into him slowly. They didn't rush it, enjoying their time together because it was quickly slipping away.

Dean came with a soft groan, and Cas followed soon after. When they'd both calmed down,  Castiel rolled into Dean's space and cuddled up to him. Dean wrapped his arm around him, and the fell asleep tangled together.

They woke several time during the night, reaching for each other. They either rocked against each other until they got off or went down on each other. The sun rose as Dean laid on his back, and Cas rested on his chest, both of them swallowing down each other's cocks. Cas fell back to sleep that way until Dean rolled onto his side, sending Cas onto the mattress. He grumbled, but he snuggled back in. Dean laughed, turning his body to join Cas at the foot of the bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Safe words are used in this chapter. It is not ignored, scene ends and aftercare is administered. There is also reference to past abuse/neglect.


	8. Chapter 8

“Cas, where the hell is my belt? I need to be at this photo shoot in twenty minutes,” Dean shouted as he picked through the disaster zone that was the sitting room. He'd taken his belt off to use it on Cas at some point, but now he couldn't seem to locate it again.

“How am I supposed to keep track of your clothing in this mess?” Castiel asked, walking out of the bedroom in just a pair of Dean's sweatpants. He'd been doing yoga at eight that morning, claiming that he needed to stretch and center his body after all of the sex they'd been having. Dean had a feeling it was in retribution for Dean keeping them up to close to sunrise for marathon sex.

Now, Dean was exhausted, partially dressed, and late for this photo shoot. Castiel didn't look repentant at all.

“Fine, I guess I don't need a belt,” Dean said, looking for his dress shoes. “Where are my shoes?”

Castiel shrugged.

“You hid them.”

“Why would I hide your clothes, Dean? That would be immature,” Castiel said, scratching at his belly.

Dean pushed his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I'm taking your shoes,” Dean said, walking over to Castiel's boots. They didn't quite fit, but Dean was beyond caring. His agent was going to chew him out for running late and looking like shit.

“I'll be back by five. I'll bring food. Please rest while I'm out—we've been going pretty hard for the last few days,” Dean said, squeezing his foot into Castiel's boot.

“I'll be fine for a few hours,” Castiel told him flatly. Dean could hear the annoyance in his tone, but he was beyond caring. Cas would drive himself to exhaustion if someone didn't nag him about it.

“Good. If you'd just stow the attitude, I'd be a lucky man,” Dean said, striding to the elevator. He definitely looked like he was doing the walk of shame, but he was running too late to care. Castiel rolled his eyes as Dean turned to give him one last look over his shoulder.

\---

The shoot had been irritating from the start, and Dean's mood just went down hill the longer it dragged on. They wanted him to pose like a swimsuit model instead of a fighter. They asked about any lucky ladies in his life. They asked about his father. They asked just about every question that he refused to answer, and when they asked about his career, it was nothing new or insightful.

Dean walked out of the suite pissed off. He grabbed burgers at the in house mall before leaving, but a lingerie shop caught his eye as he was leaving. Dean stepped inside and looked through the selection.

A woman walked over to him and asked if he needed assistance. Dean directed her to three pairs of panties and asked for a large. Even the larges would probably strain to hold Castiel's cock, but that was part of the fun really.

The woman was happy to make the sale, since the panties were outrageously overpriced. She assured him that his special lady would love them. That just set Dean's mood off again because he couldn't tell her or anyone that these were for a man. He just took his purchase and got into the car Cas had sent for him. Cas could be thoughtful when it suited him, but Dean suspected he sent the car to ensure Dean hurried back.

Castiel wasn't in the sitting room when Dean got upstairs. Dean walked into the bedroom, but Cas wasn't in there either. He found him in the room with the grand piano, playing a classical piece. He just stood in the doorway and listened, feeling himself relax as he watched Castiel make music.

“Sorry, I'm later than expected,” Dean said, when Castiel's piece came to an end.

Cas turned on the seat to face him. “Don't worry about it. What did you bring?” Castiel sounded as tired as Dean felt.

“Burgers and panties, since the first pair are kind of dead,” Dean said, holding up both bags.

“Do you expect me to put them on before we eat?” Cas asked, sounding weary.

“What? No, I just saw this lingerie shop as I was leaving, and I remembered tearing the first pair off of you at some point last night. You don't have to wear them. Honestly, I'm too tired to think about sex right now. I just want to eat and forget about that awful shoot,” Dean said, nodding to the table in the corner of the room.

“I think I've had more awful photo shoots than good ones,” Castiel admitted as they split the food, sharing the large trough of fries in the middle. “Oh god, I love a good burger,” Cas said, after taking his first bite.

Dean laughed, moaning around his own burger.

They ate quietly, sitting close together. It was pleasant, and Dean felt himself unwinding from the long day. Castiel finished his burger quickly, then started to inhale the fries. Dean had to fight for his share, but Castiel definitely ate most of them.

When he was finished, Cas went back to the piano and played while Dean ate. It was beautiful; Dean found himself watching Castiel's bare back as his fingers glided across the keys.

His tattoo was heart wrenching in motion. Cas' back muscles made it look like the broken wings were trying to move, spread themselves. They quivered as he played a solemn melody.

“Does it hurt to play?” Dean found himself asking.

Castiel paused, looking over his shoulder. “What?”

“Does it hurt to play?” Dean repeated.

“What makes you ask?”

“Watching you, your tattoo is haunting when you play. It made me think that music was so important to you as a child, but after what your family did... That would make it hard for me to play again,” Dean explained.

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment, before sighing and looking down at his hands. “It hurts. Maybe that's a part of why I distance my music from my upbringing and anything with deep emotional ties. It still hurts, but I'd be missing a part of myself without it,” Cas told him, running his fingers over the keys.

“I understand.”

“I know you do,” Cas said solemnly, turning back and picking up where he left off.

Dean just listened to him play for a while, switching between classical to jazz to classic rock. There was no denying he had incredible skill, and he seemed at home while playing an instrument.

Eventually, Dean joined him on the bench. He tried to stay out of his way, just sitting there watching, but Castiel grabbed his hands and placed his fingers on the keys, pressing them down. The song they played that way was full of wrong notes, but they laughed as they played.

“I finished all the songs I need for an album while you were out,” Castiel told him as he took a break for a cigarette.

“You work fast,” Dean said. They'd only been at it for a few days, and Castiel had an album's worth of inspiration.

“It's been a fruitful experience,” Castiel said, taking a drag then ashing in the tray on top of the piano.

“So, what you're saying is I'm off the hook,” Dean said, and it stung a little—he figured they'd have another night even if they were both exhausted. It just felt final somehow, now that they had no excuses anymore.

“I'd like it if you stayed until you leave tomorrow. I'd like to think we can be friends after this, that it wasn't just a bit of an experiment,” Castiel said, playing a simple tune with his left hand. This was a change from the Castiel that hadn't wanted to go to dinner two nights earlier. This was even different from the Castiel who didn't think he could view their scenes as more than a push and pull yesterday.

“I'll stay.” Dean agreed because he wasn't to be friends with Castiel. He wasn't sure he could go back to his life without knowing that he had a friend in Cas.

Cas stood up then, closing the keyboard cover carefully. Dean followed as Cas slipped his hand into his and let Dean lead him to the bedroom. They had slow sex that night, rocking against each other, touching each other, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs.

When the sun rose, Dean felt the heavy knowledge that they'd be parting ways in a matter of hours. Dean's head was resting on Cas' chest as he looked up, studying Castiel's face one last time.

He was gorgeous; there was no denying that. However, Dean had spent the week getting beneath all of his outward appearances. Even though going into it, Dean had expected it to just be sex, he'd found he'd learned so much about who Cas was in that time.

“I can feel you watching me,” Cas said without opening his eyes.

“Sorry, I thinking again.”

“You think a lot for a man who get's his head knocked around for a living,” Castiel told him.

Dean laughed at that and pushed himself up to hold himself over Cas. “You're awfully awake for a guy who doesn't get up before noon,” Dean teased.

Castiel opened his eyes. “You'll be gone by then.”

Dean paused a second. “Yeah, I will. You won't be far behind though,” Dean said, reaching down to cup Cas' jaw while supporting his weight with the other hand.

“Yeah, flying to L.A. to meet with the band and start prepping to record the album,” Castiel didn't sound excited.

“You'll need to send me a copy,” Dean told him. He tried to make his tone teasing, but it came out hopeful.

“You never asked to hear any of the songs,” Castiel said, turning his head to kiss Dean's palm. Dean wasn't sure when this stopped being convenient sex and became intimate, but he knew this was going to linger with him.

“I didn't think it was my place to ask.”

Cas nodded. Dean could see that he wasn't sure either, if he would've been able to reveal his songs for Dean's judgment and still be able to write them uninhibited. “I don't know if I did this week justice, but I hope you like the album when you hear it.”

“Trust me, if it reminds me of this week, I'll enjoy it,” Dean promised, leaning down to kiss Cas passionately.

Dean got out of bed a little while later. Cas watched as he tried to determine what was his and what was Cas'. He picked up socks from the floor as well as shirts and boxers. Cas didn't offer any help, choosing to play his guitar instead.

When Dean's bag was packed, he returned to the bed, leaning over Cas. “I had a great time. Glad I took your offer,” Dean told him, pressing into Cas' space.

“Yes, I knew that you would.”

“Don't be a dick. Tell me you enjoyed it too,” Dean said, lips hovering just in front of Cas'. Cas didn't say it. Instead, he closed the distance, and he kissed Dean with all of the passion that he had that first night in Dean's hotel room. Dean returned it with equal enthusiasm, licking his way between Cas' lips then following it with a playful nip.

As the pulled back just enough to catch their breath, Cas looked him in the eye. “I haven't had a week this good in years, but I need you to leave without making this harder,” he said, leaning in again and placing a chaste kiss on Dean's cheek.

Dean backed off with a nod. He picked up his bag and turned to leave. He didn't look back as he walked away.

Uriel was out in the sitting room when Dean stepped out of the bedroom wearing a t-shirt and jeans for seemingly the first time all week. He gave Dean an unimpressed look. Dean chose to ignore it, and walked straight for the elevator.

“Don't contact Castiel again, Mr. Winchester. I'm sure you understand that this was a limited time offer, and he will not be...requiring your services anymore. If you contact him for any reason, we will seek legal action,” Uriel told him.

Dean turned, mouth hanging open at the balls the man had. Did Cas put him up to it. Was this just standard protocol as far as hookups went. Dean wanted to put his fist through Uriel's face, but he just nodded.

“Got it. I'll nix the fruit basket,” Dean said, standing at the elevator.

Uriel didn't look amused, but Dean didn't give a shit. He wasn't looking to score anything from this week, but he could've done without it being tainted by Cas' ass of a bodyguard.

The elevator opened and Dean shuffled inside without another word.

Benny met him in the lobby, carrying two of his bags for him. Dean nodded his thanks before they headed for the Impala. Benny didn't grill him as they went and dumped everything in the trunk, but he did signal for the keys. Dean didn't even fight Benny on it, and handed them over. He was in no condition to drive anyway.

Once they were on the road, Benny turned to Dean. “You get your heart broken?” he asked seriously.

“Nope. It was a good week of hot sex, and I think I made a friend,” Dean told him. Though their parting wasn't without problems, Dean figured Uriel was acting on his own.

“Good, friends are good,” Benny said, resting his arm over the back of the seat. “But if you're going to be moping about leaving that in Vegas, stay with Sam until all that shit passes. Bobby can't take your moping,” Benny told him.

“Yeah, it's Bobby who can't handle it,” Dean said sarcastically, opening the magazine that had been brought up to the room with breakfast. He'd brought it because there was a picture of Castiel on the cover. According to the tabloid, Castiel had a lovechild with bandmate Meg Masters, but they'd shipped the child off to a religious commune and denied that Meg was ever pregnant.

It was a good read. Dean especially liked the part where they explained that Castiel's sex addiction was driving the band to exhaustion, which was why a new album was so long in coming. And Meg and Anna—the drummer—were terribly jealous of each other, but truly Castiel's heart belonged to Balthazar, the keyboardist.

At least there was a picture of the band, so Dean could get a good look at their faces. He'd been so preoccupied with Castiel this week, he hadn't really looked his bandmates up, other than finding out their names.

Dean spent most of the ride listening to his iPod because he'd downloaded all of The Garrison's albums before he left. It was no ACDC or Led Zeppelin, but he liked it. Sometimes branching out was good, and maybe hearing Cas' voice was a little soothing. Dean wasn't getting sentimental. He was just expanding his knowledge of great rock bands. He listened to three albums before he fell asleep watching the open road pass by.

Dean was a little startled when Benny woke him up as they pulled into Sam's driveway. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but it had to have been hours. The trip from Vegas to Sam's should've taken over seven hours, and Dean had only been awake for an hour or two.

Dean glanced at Benny, but Benny waved it off. “You needed the rest. They're going to have you running all over now that you're here,” Benny said, giving Dean a shove to get out of the car. Dean gave him the finger.

Sam greeted Dean with a tight hug as Dean walked up the path. Jess was really starting to show now, but she was still graceful as she walked over to him and kissed his scruffy cheek.

“One week in Vegas, and you're looking like a wild man,” she teased him.

“Ladies love the scruff,” Dean joked.

“I'm sure that's not all they like.” Jess certainly didn't pull her punches. How Sam handled her was beyond him.

“The house baby proofed yet?” Dean asked.

“Oh god, don't get him going,” Jess complained, turning and retreating into the house.

“She thinks I'm being overly cautious,” Sam said, sounding like it was a constant point of argument.

“You probably are. I mean, our house wasn't baby proof at all, and we survived.”

“Barely,” Sam groaned.

“Whatever, you aren't going to take your eyes off that kid for long enough for it to stub its toe.”

“You better not either when you're babysitting.”

“Who says I'm babysitting the squirt?”

Sam just gave him a look that said 'are you kidding me', and followed his wife inside.

\---

Dean wasn't planning on staying more than a couple weeks with Sam, but time seemed to slip by. He thought about calling Cas a few times. It was usually when something stupid happened, and he thought Cas would find it funny, or when he was up alone at night listening to Cas sing about trading sex for a ride down the highway. Dean didn't know why he always came back to that song. It wasn't even in the band's top ten songs, but Dean knew the story behind it. He knew that Cas must have been feeling all alone in the world, and he'd connected with another lonely soul just for one night and a couple miles.

It mirrored their own affair rather well, and it made Dean wonder how the album was coming along. Dean would look up the band from time to time, but the only information that he could find simply stated that they were back in the studio working on a new record. There were a few pictures of the band out at clubs or having drinks, but not a whole lot. Dean wanted to call, just talk to Cas about anything, but he heeded Uriel's warning.

Dean didn't need stalking charges filed against him. Still, since he left Vegas, he felt like something was missing. It felt like something had always been missing inside him, but now he was aware of the hole.

Cas never called him either, so Dean let it go. Maybe they'd cross paths again and be friends. Dean certainly felt nothing but goodwill toward Castiel.

\---

A couple weeks turned into a couple months, and Dean found himself sticking around for the birth to help out, since Sam and Jess didn't have a whole lot of family to help them with the adjustment.

Dean was in the nursery, walking around with Mary on his shoulder while the radio played quietly when The Garrison's new single dropped. Dean's head snapped to the radio as the DJ announced the new track.

“Guys, this is one hot single. I mean it is  _ really _ hot. I would love to know who the lucky lady who inspired this song was because  _ damn _ ,” the man said before playing the song.

Dean froze as a familiar riff on the guitar played before the entire band joined in.

You walk me like a dog

make me beg for what I want

you never make it easy

 

You hold me down, you tie me up

Can't get enough of your torturous love

 

Dean felt like he shouldn't be allowing his one month old niece to hear this song, but he was going to assume that she was conceived to an equally raunchy number sung by none other than Castiel.

He ended up going online and listening to it half a dozen more times before he realized what the problem was. Dean had cared for him that night, the night the song was based on. Carried him, bathed him, brought him water. They'd shared parts of themselves that night, but that didn't make the cut. The single was just about sex, just like all of Castiel's other songs. It was about pleasure with a hint of pain, but it was lacking in emotional depth which that night had been rife with. It missed all of the beautiful things they'd discovered about themselves and each other. This song didn't turn Dean on because nothing about their love had been torturous. Dean still listened to it three more times because he missed hearing Castiel's rough voice.

\---

The album arrived days later, before the actual release, but Dean assumed Cas was allowed those kinds of perks, or he allowed himself those perks and everyone else be damned. Jess' eyes went wide when she watched him open the large envelope at the kitchen island.

“Is that The Garrison's new album...which doesn't come out until next week?” she asked, reaching over him like she was going to snatch it and hide it away for herself.

“Hands off. It was addressed to me,” Dean told her.

“No way! We are listening to that together right now. Have you heard their first single from the record? My god, it makes me want to start working on a sibling for Mary. Wait, you don't even like them,” Jess said, placing her hands on her hips.

“First of all, too much information. Second of all, I like The Garrison. Met Castiel in Vegas and hung out with him. Pretty cool guy,” Dean answered, trying to sound cool about it.

“You met Castiel, and you didn't tell me? You didn't get pictures? What good are you?” She asked, punching him in the shoulder. For a woman who'd never had to fight in her life, she could punch hard.

“Dammit, Sam, your wife is beating me up!” Dean called to the home office where Sam was trying to get work done.

“Give her what she wants, and she'll stop. I'm too busy going through case discovery to handle three children right now,” Sam called back. Sam had been buried in work since Mary's birth, which was one of the reasons Dean was still hanging around. Sam couldn't neglect his cases, but he also didn't want to be far from home, so he holed himself up in his office, and Dean handled the housework.

“See, now give me the CD, and explain to me why you didn't get your favorite sister-in-law a signed copy of Castiel's face,” Jess said, snatching the CD out of Dean's hands and going to the sound system in the living room.

Thankfully, Mary was down for a nap after a long night of fussing, because Dean figured that this was going to get awkward pretty quickly.

Dean still held the envelope, and he glanced inside to find several pieces of paper. He didn't know whether it was safe to read them now with Jess around, because he wasn't ready to explain that the album was about Cas and him, and that he was into men as well as women. He knew he could tell his family, and they'd be supportive and never let it slip to the public, but Dean just didn't want to go through the big reveal. He especially didn't want to do so while listening to an album detailing his sex life.

Maybe this had really been a bad idea, but Dean still couldn't bring himself to regret that week. He was still using their time together as fodder for sexual fantasies. Even if the whole album was as lacking in real depth as the first single, Dean knew what really happened in that penthouse suite, and so did Castiel, and in the end that was all that mattered.

A slow bass line started to play in the living room. It heavy, but it was soon broken by a thump of a kick drum, and Castiel's voice cracked into existence in a long husky moan. Dean was hard in an instant. His body remembered that sound and exactly where to touch Castiel to get it to rise and crack.

Castiel's voice faded off, and the bass continued. Another burst of percussion snapped to life, this time with a brush smacking the snare. Castiel's voice came to life again in a whimper this time.

For a minute and a half, the intro continued with nothing more that bass, percussion, and Castiel's wails. Dean couldn't go into the living room. He was sweating and standing behind the kitchen counter in case anyone walked in, because there was no hiding how aroused he was. His brain was supplying all sorts of visuals to go with Castiel's vocals.

“Jess are you watching porn with my brother?” Sam asked, stalking out of his office, past the kitchen, and into the living room. “What the hell are you listening too?”

Dean couldn't hear Jess' reply, but Sam's was priceless. “Babe, you can't have sex for another two weeks, and we certainly can't do it while Dean's hiding in the kitchen,” Sam said like a true pillar of strength.

The next song was already starting, and it was far more upbeat than the intro. Castiel's voice was full and deep as he sang about needing something more. Dean realized about a verse in that he was singing about what led to them meeting, and even when Dean couldn't understand the words from a room away, he could hear the emotion in Castiel's voice. It wasn't anything like the single which was also set to an upbeat melody. This was what Dean wanted to hear when Castiel sang about them.

Sam and Jess were playfully fighting in the living room as Dean pulled the papers out of the envelope. He recognized a bunch of them as pages from Castiel's pad, but he picked up the folded piece of stationary first.

 

— _Dean_

_I can only assume that you've heard our single by now, unless you've avoided anything to do with me now that our time is up. I hate it. It wasn't going to make the album, but they wanted a single, and that was the best they could come up with._

_I hope you'll listen to the rest of the album before you decide I'm a hack. But I also hope that you enjoy the album because I wouldn't give that week away for anything._

_Some songs didn't make the cut because that's just the nature of it. But, I wanted you to have a couple of them because if I can't give you credit, I want you to have something, and these are more yours than they are mine anyway. Maybe if you come to a show sometime, I'll sing one for you._

 

There were several lines crossed out to the point that Dean couldn't read them, not for lack of trying. At the bottom it just read:

 

_ I miss feeling free. _

_ Yours, _

_Castiel_

 

Dean placed the letter aside and picked up the first of the songs that didn't make the album. It was titled “Green Eyed Monster,” and it was obviously about him. Castiel hadn't been explicit about it in anyway, but Dean understood why he'd said they were more Dean's than Cas'.

The song was about resenting Dean for cracking him open and breaking through his walls. Dean didn't even need music to go with it to hear it in Cas' voice. The verses went on about pushing back against him but Dean meeting every challenge. Dean didn't know why this one in particular didn't make the cut—it could've easily read as a song about jealousy as the title implied. Dean knew enough that jealousy and envy were big sellers of popular music.

The second song “Never Coming Back,” had a note on the top.  _ Other half of single. _ It was kind of out there. It was about a starfish stuck in a bath tub stretching out its limbs and feeling like it wasn't caged, but in reality it was trapped. But so long as the starfish floated in the middle it seemed free. 

Dean remembered Castiel spreading out in the tub like a damn starfish and how dazed he'd seemed. It was interesting to see what Castiel's brain had come up with after that. It was also a relief to see that there was more about that night. Even if it was strange, the tone of it was reverent, like the illusion of freedom was sacred even if it wasn't real.

Dean heard Sam walking toward the kitchen, and he put the papers back in the envelope. His erection had calmed down as he read the lyrics that were strictly for him, and he wasn't sweating bullets anymore.

“Dude, this stuff is crazy. I thought the album about the orgy was wild, but this is a whole other level of intense,” Sam said, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

“The guy himself is a whole other level of intense,” Dean said, sealing up the envelope for when he had more privacy.

“Yeah? Jess is going to want all of the details. I'd be jealous of her love for him if I thought for a second he'd float down to earth long enough to interact with actual humans. The guy is more out there than Bowie in the 70s,” Sam said, coming over to the counter.

“He's definitely one of a kind,” Dean said, holding his tongue instead of defending Castiel's persona. It wasn't his place to say. Castiel wanted to be seen as that; it was his protection. And even if Cas had never outright said as much, Dean knew it was the truth.

“But he must have talked to you long enough to send you his album before its released. That seems a bit chancy with the number of albums that get leaked these days,” Sam said, looking at Dean like he was suddenly seeing him differently.

“We hung out at the club. Told him what a fan my sister-in-law is. Benny probably got a copy for Pam too,” Dean bluffed, praying that Sam's dislike for Benny would keep him from fact checking Dean's story.

“Really? He just sends pre-release albums to all the guys he meets at the club who know someone who likes his stuff?” Sam asked.

In all honesty, that was something Castiel would do if it weren't for his label, Dean thought. Castiel didn't seem like he cared all that much about sales and marketing. They'd been important when he was fresh off living on the street, but now Castiel seemed more irritated by the demands of the industry than he was loyal to it.

“He's out there. You said it.” Dean shrugged.

“What are you hiding?”

“About eight inches of—”

“Gross man, and you are totally avoiding the question,” Sam pressed him.

“Look man, you aren't cross examining me. I'm not on trial.”

“But you  _ are _ guilty as hell. How do you really know Castiel?” Sam asked him.

“What does it matter?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

“Wow, that law school really did pay off,” Dean said, stepping around Sam.

“You've been different since you came back from Vegas, Dean. I wrote it off as you being upset that everyone's pushing you to get out of fighting, but it's not that is it? What happened in Vegas that's got you doing the thousand yard stare whenever you think no one's looking?”

“Don't you know, Sam? Whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” Dean told him, walking out of the kitchen and up to his room.

Dean sighed as he closed the door and locked it. He had been off since he came to Sam's house. It wasn't that Dean wasn't happy as Sam implied. Dean was content, but his time with Cas had opened up a lot of things inside Dean that he hadn't been expecting.

Dean had always kept people at a distance. He had those he was close with and would do anything for, but the rest of the world didn't get close to him. He'd expected to enjoy a week of sex with Castiel, but instead they'd spent the week stripping away each others shields, and in the quiet moments, revealing long forgotten parts of themselves.

It was just strange stepping back into reality and having to face the fact that all of those feelings and experiences were valid, and not necessarily wanting to put them away again. Dean wasn't ashamed of who he was; he'd gotten over that a long time ago. He was never going to be good enough for his dad, but he couldn't change that. He was probably never going to be a family man with a beautiful wife and 2.5 kids either. That was okay.

Dean didn't keep parts of himself bottled away because he was afraid. He was an athlete, and he'd seen what happened to men who thought the world was ready for openly gay athletes. He'd seen the way all a man's accolades became second to where he chose to stick his dick or get stuck with one. Dean wasn't ready to retire, and he certainly wasn't ready to retire because he was suddenly “un-fightable.”

Though his time with Castiel had made him reconsider retirement. Until those five days in Vegas, Dean hadn't found anything that felt as empowering or exhilarating as stepping into the octagon. Having someone's complete trust was suddenly more heady than having permission to pummel a person.

It had changed him. Sam was right, but that didn't mean Dean was ready to share that with everyone.

Dean didn't get to listen to the album in full until Sam and Jess went to bed. He went down to the living room and took the CD back to his room. He went through the booklet while he waited for it to transfer to his laptop, then his iPod.

The cover of the album was Castiel on one knee with the other spread to the side as he sang into a microphone. He was in nothing but his leather pants and the collar he'd kept. The collar was attached to a lead, and in the background was a figure covered in shadow holding the lead. There was no denying what the album was about.

Dean read the lyrics as he listened to each song. His fear that there wouldn't be any true emotions in the album was banished as he listened. The album mirrored Dean's feelings about their time together. The album strayed from Castiel's usual M.O. Instead, it was full of raw emotions. Cas talked about his fears and feels when they started and how those changed. The album was about growth.

The final song on the album was the title track, “Take the Lead.” As soon as the music started, Dean recognized the haunting melody as the one that Castiel had played on the piano their final night together. Dean choked up as he read the words as Castiel's voice echoed them through the headphones.

He listened to the song three times before he grabbed his phone and scrolled down to Castiel's number.

_ —I got the package. You're not a hack. I think it's your best work. _

He didn't get a response, but he wasn't entirely sure he had expected one. He just hoped that he wouldn't get in trouble for contacting Cas since Cas contacted him first. He listened to the album one more time then returned the disc to the player in the living room.

Mary was starting to fuss by then, so Dean went to rock her back to sleep, and he wasn't the least bit surprised when he started to sing “Take the Lead” to her.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end

Dean had finally gotten Bobby to agree to taking on the rookie fighter, and the thing was announced for the coming months. Dean was going to have to head home soon and get back into heavier training. Benny was already calling him every day, asking when they were getting back in the ring to practice.

Dean was putting it off because frankly, he was enjoying time with his family that wasn't shoehorned in between other obligations. He was enjoying holding his niece even when she wouldn't stop crying. He enjoyed cooking dinner for Sam and Jess because they were just too exhausted between baby duty and work to think about food.

Dean still enjoyed training, but he was starting to see that he could be good at other things and find a different place in the world. He was starting to see that life didn't end when he retired. It would just be different, freer.

Dean was in the middle of cooking dinner while the news played on the small TV on the kitchen counter. He was cutting the peppers as the anchor switched over to entertainment news.

“After months of heated speculation as to the subject and inspiration of The Garrison's latest number one album, an anonymous source claimed to top music magazine  _ Rock Out _ , that they have the answer. The source reports that all of the speculation about the woman Castiel let 'take the lead' from him was so far off because it was actually a man. A fairly famous man, in fact.”

Dean's head snapped up in time to see the little icon next to the woman's head change to a picture of him in nothing but his shorts and gloves. His eyes widened, and he vaguely felt the knife slice into his fingers.

“None other than top MMA fighter Dean Winchester, who was spotted dining in Las Vegas with The Garrison's front man just months ago, during a week of publicity for his most recent fight. Carl, what do you think of all this?” the anchor asked, turning to the man next to her.

“I think there is going to be a lot more speculation going around. This sort of thing could have a big impact on both men. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a defamation suit from Mr. Winchester, for being implicated in this. Castiel and the band have yet to comment on the speculation, but I wouldn't be surprised to hear something fiery from the band's bassist, Meg Masters. As we've seen in the past she doesn't keep tight lipped about her distaste for the media...”

Dean stopped hearing anything as he looked down at his bleeding hand. He'd done a number on it. He could see the bone in his index finger. He walked over to the sink and placed it under the water, watching the pink tinged water flow down the drain.

It was out there now, and even the best lawyers and PR people in the world couldn't put it away again. Dean wondered who it had been. He knew it wasn't Benny. Benny would sooner die than betray Dean—even if he wasn't impressed by Castiel, he wouldn't hurt Dean that way. They'd been through too much together. Hell, Benny wouldn't hurt Castiel that way either. Benny was a lot of things, but cruel just for the sake of it wasn't one of them.

Dean knew it wasn't Castiel who'd let it slip either. As out there as Castiel was, this wasn't his style.

Dean didn't even realize that Jess had come in the door until she was wrapping a kitchen towel around his still bleeding hand. Last he knew, she'd been out running errands.

“Dammit Dean, look at me,” she told him, jabbing him in the side. She was the only person other than Sam that he'd met who never hesitated to touch him even when he was distracted; most people expected him to come up swinging.

“Sorry,” Dean said, looking down into her blue eyes.

“That's going to need stitches. What's got you so distracted?” she asked, studying his fingers with a gentle touch.

Dean was surprised for some reason that she didn't already know. He took a deep breath and decided she might be the only person he had a chance to tell himself before the word spread.

“Someone went to the media about the inspiration for the new Garrison album,” Dean told her.

She laughed like it was a completely reasonable thing to be distracted by. It was a sweet sound, and Dean wished he could hold onto it. “That would distract me too. You've got to tell me,” she said, though she continued to examine his fingers like a professional.

“It's me,” Dean said.

She dropped his hand. He didn't feel so bad about getting distracted now, because she totally was too.

“No,” she said, mouth opened, but he could see the wheels turning. “Shit, Dean, I'm sorry,” she said almost immediately. “Shit. Let's get your hand fixed before Sam comes barreling in worried about you.”

“Yeah, um, that would be good. I'm sorry I didn't tell you two,” Dean apologized, letting himself be led to the bathroom where she kept her medical kit. It didn't hurt to have a nurse in the family, Dean supposed.

“Dean, no. You aren't obligated to tell stuff like that. It obviously wasn't something you wanted the world to know, and I can't blame you for not wanting us to know that album is the soundtrack to your sex life. You really don't need to apologize, and if Sam says differently, it's just him being shocked. He'll come around once that wears off,” she told him, cleaning out the wounds.

“Thanks, Jess,” Dean told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her blond head.

It was easy to let himself believe they were the only two people in the world as she quietly patched him up. Dean didn't even cringe. He felt numb all over. He'd been in shock before—after his fight with Alastair, he'd been numb for hours. Sometimes, he still felt numb when he thought about it, like the terror he felt couldn't have possibly been real. This couldn't be real either, just a strange dream.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You love him?”

“I don't know. Why you ask?” He had tried to keep all thoughts of love or even feelings for Castiel as far from his mind as possible, because Dean knew that if he let himself go there, he might not recover.

“Because I think he loves you,” she told him, suturing his fingers closed again.

“I don't know if he can feel love, Jess, and that isn't me being repressed either,” Dean told her. It was true. Cas had pushed the possibility to love and emotional reciprocation so far away, that Dean had had to hear his entire album to be sure he felt anything for him.

“I don't think anyone who can write the last song on that album can't feel love, Dean,” she said.

Dean didn't reply. There wasn't much to say. Even if they did love each other, it wasn't destined to be—they lived different lives, and neither of them were looking for that kind of thing.

“Are you upset with him for the leak?”

“Not his fault,” Dean said, knowing in his heart that it was true.

Jess nodded. She didn't question him, and he appreciated that. When she finished up with his hand, she wrapped his fingers then taped it closed.

“You mind if I ask why you haven't talked to him since you left Vegas?” she asked, biting her lip as she waited for his response.

“The deal was a week then we'd go our separate ways. I might have called, but his bodyguard made it very clear that it was over, and I should never try to contact him again,” Dean admitted.

“But...”

“It's how these people work, Jess. I don't take it personally.”

“But he cares about you. That album. That was all about loving you. Primal maybe, but it was so full of heart. How could he just let you go like that?”

“Because feelings are weaknesses.”

“That's nonsense, Dean. Feelings are what keep us human, and love gives us strength,” she told him. “I'm going to feed Mary. Then I'm going to help you finish dinner, and when Sam gets home, I'm here for you, okay?”

“Thanks again, Jess.”

“You're family, Dean. This is what family does,” she said, and he was beginning to realize that Sam and Jess starting their own family didn't mean that Dean was no longer a part of it.

Dean went back to the kitchen and turned off the television while he cleaned up the mess he'd made of the peppers, waiting for Jess to finished with Mary instead of starting over. He wasn't dumb enough to need a second injury to tell him he was in no shape to do anything.

Jess walked in carrying her daughter and quickly passed her off to Dean for burping duty.

“Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it,” she said, stepping up to the freshly washed cutting board.

“Dice the last pepper, since I bled all over the others,” he instructed, bouncing around as he rubbed Mary's back. She was busy playing with his earlobe. A least Mary was too young to judge him.

Jess followed his directions carefully, and Dean got Mary to burp without spitting up all over his shoulder. So far he had the best track record of the three of them, but he'd had practice when Sam was a baby. Certain skills just never went away.

Sam came in in a whirlwind as dinner was cooking. He'd only started going into the office regularly the previous week.

“Dean, is it true?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Dean said, handing Mary off to Jess because he didn't trust himself to hold her right now.

“Don't worry. I'll get the documents ready. We'll have this guy's house, his career. His great grandchildren will be paying you for damages. We'll deny. I'm sure the band will work with us if they don't want to be forking over every last bit of money they make off this album. You did get Castiel to sign a nondisclosure agreement, right?” Sam charged on.

“It was more of an implied thing,” Dean said, looking at Jess who was trying to keep Mary from getting upset.

“Implied?”

“Yeah, like please don't tell anyone I spent the week fucking you every which way because my career can't survive that kind of hit,” Dean explained.

“Jesus Dean, did you put any thought into this at all?” Sam asked, dropping his briefcase onto the counter.

“Yeah, I thought, why the hell not? I was in Vegas, and I was bored,” Dean told him.

“No, bored is getting caught doing cocaine with a stripper. Bored is waking up with a name tattooed on your ass and a marriage license. Bored is not entering into a week long BDSM contract with a man who wants to write an entire album about it,” Sam told him. So the news had been even more thorough than he'd heard.

“What are you suggesting? That I was asking for this? That I deserve to have my personal life paraded through the media because I found someone who just got it, and I wanted to get to know?” Dean fired back.

“Of course that's not what I'm saying. I fucking love you, Dean, but sometimes you don't think of the consequences. You just dive in head first.”

“I knew the consequences, Sam. I was keenly aware of them, but you know what? Fuck it. I don't care. I'm not apologizing,” Dean said, throwing his hands out to his sides.

“No one's asking you to apologize, Dean. I want to help you.”  
“Not you, Sam. The media. People are going to want an apology. People are going to want my head on a platter, but I don't care anymore. Screw 'em,” Dean said, walking out of the kitchen.

His head was too full right now. He needed to be alone. He needed time to clear all of the voices in his head telling him what a fuck up he was and how he deserved this.

Sam came to find him when dinner was ready. Dean was listening to “Take the Lead” for the hundredth time.

“I'm sorry. Jess informed me I was getting way ahead of myself. Are you okay?” Sam asked, coming to sit next to Dean on the bed. Dean remembered when he used to be the one coming to Sam's room, after Sam and their father had yet another fight.

“I'm numb. I know this is going to fuck a lot of stuff up, but I can't bring myself to care. I don't regret it, Sam. It was probably stupid of me, but I don't regret it. I've done a lot of things I regret, Sammy, but this isn't one of them,” Dean told him, worrying the corner of the pages Cas had sent him.

“We'll work this out, Dean. I don't want you to have to regret any of it. I don't want you to feel like you have to hide any of yourself from us,” Sam told him, patting his shoulder. “Have you heard from him?”

Dean could tell that Sam was uncomfortable asking. “I'm not going to start crying. You can stop filtering the questions like I'm made of glass. I've taken harder hits than this,” Dean told him.

“Have you?”

Dean paused. Growing up with their father and in underground fights, Dean had always known nothing could hit him as hard as his past could, but now he wasn't as sure. “I guess I'm gonna find out. And I haven't looked at my phone. Been too busy having your wife sew my hand back up,” he said, raising his wrapped fingers. Sam cringed at the line of red that had still seeped through after the stitches.

“Yeah, she told me she found you kind of dazed when she got back from the hairdresser.”

“Shit, I didn't even notice her hair. Bet it's cute.”

“I'm sure she'll forgive you,” Sam said, laughing softly. Jess wasn't really one to care whether people noticed her hair or makeup, but Dean liked to point it out anyway.

“Don't say anything. I'll slip it in during dinner, and she'll totally buy it,” Dean told him.

“You are  _ not _ that smooth, man,” Sam said, getting up and waving Dean to come eat.

“Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there,” Dean said, waiting for Sam to leave before he checked his phone.

There was one missed call and a voice mail. He dialed it and waited for the message.

“Dean, I'm sorry. I never meant for this to happen, you have to believe me. I didn't know I couldn't trust Uriel. He's been my bodyguard for forever. He was like family. I-I...shit Dean, I don't know how to make you believe me. I...I'm sorry...”

Castiel's voice faded off, but the message didn't end for several more seconds, like he'd been trying to think of something else to say, but couldn't.

Dean didn't call him, but he sent a text that only read:  _ I believe you _ .

\---

The fight with the rookie got canceled almost as fast as Dean's sports drink contract. Evidently, his sexual appetites didn't mesh with their family oriented brand. Dean told them their product sucked, and when he needed electrolytes after an intense scene he'd been drinking their competitor's brand. They hadn't been amused.

Dean didn't blame the kid for backing out of the challenge he'd made. There was no shame in getting beat by the champ. There was, however, shame in getting beat by a champ immersed in a lurid sex scandal that not only involved another man, but also all sorts of 'deviations' as the media was calling it.

Dean was evidently public enemy number one for every right wing religious group that had previously seen him as an All-American boy, if they'd ever heard of him before. Honestly, he doubted they had.

Dean took it all, fielding calls for interviews about being a gay athlete. He hung up on each and everyone after informing them he wasn't gay, he still liked women just fine, and they could shove their interview up their ass. He dealt with paparazzi that followed him to the supermarket when he picket up diapers. He dealt with the articles written and the entertainment shows.

Dean didn't care, until Bobby called him to turn on the sports channel. Dean flipped over from another episode of  _ Dr. Sexy _ , and immediately saw Alastair sitting at a press table.

“Of course, I'm willing to fight him. I'm not afraid to lose to him. He's afraid to lose to me,” Alastair said into the microphone. Someone from the media asked if he was surprised by the revelation.

“Personally, I'm not surprised at all. I always knew there was something off about that boy.”

Dean didn't for a second think that Alastair was referring to the BDSM. If anyone liked to tie people up and control them, it was Alastair, though Dean doubted it would be consensual if Alastair was involved.

“He still wants that fight, Dean. He's saying it in public, and he's the only one willing to go toe to toe with you after that complete fuck up of a media circus,” Bobby told him over the phone.

Dean stared at the TV for another minute just listening to Alastair malign him. Life wasn't fair at all; guys like Alastair and Uriel got to have their way, but he had to be punished for the first intimate relationship he hadn't personally fucked up in years.

“Son?” Bobby said through the phone.

“I'll fight him,” Dean said, turning back to  _ Dr. Sexy _ .

“Are you sure?” Bobby asked, sounding concerned.

“I thought you wanted me to take this fight to begin with.”

“I did, when you didn't have anything to prove with it.”

“It's time I stop running from the past, Bobby. I've got to do this before I walk away,” Dean told him.

“What's that mean, kid?”

“Means I've got history with him, and I'm not going to rest easy until I bury it,” Dean told him.

“Dean...”

“It's for me, Bobby. I'm not proving anything to anyone but myself. So long as I step into the cage with him, I can't lose.”

“He's got a record as good as yours, Dean.”

“That's not what I mean, Bobby. Just set it up. Make it happen sooner than later. I want this over,” Dean told him before hanging up. Dean never thought he'd look forward to the end of his career, but here he was wishing it was already over with—wishing he could stop putting on a show for the media.

He still had a few hours before Sam and Jess got home. He could show Mary a couple more episodes before they came back and told him to stop showing her crap TV.

\---

Dean didn't hear from Castiel again. The story should've faded, but then Castiel went to rehab. It was all over the news—the tour was pushed back while Castiel was whisked away to some treatment facility.

Suddenly, Dean's name was being linked to words like abuser and torturer. Some tabloids were saying he'd locked Cas up and forced him to do all the stuff on the album. Others said that Castiel had broken down after Dean had rejected him when the truth came to light. Not a single article painted a flattering picture of Dean, or Castiel for that matter.

Then Castiel's family started to crawl out of the woodwork. His own mother did an interview with an entertainment show, so she could condemn her son's actions and explain that this was not how they had raised James to be. Dean cringed at the name Cas told him he never wanted to hear again.

His uncle, Zachariah, did several interviews explaining how James' mental illness was to blame for his behavior and why he ran away from the family that loved him and cared for him. He promised that they would welcome him back and get him the treatment he needed for his sinful behavior.

Dean tried to call Cas after that, but he knew Cas wouldn't have his phone while he was in rehab. Dean didn't know what else to do, and the band was keeping the name of the facility a secret.

Dean threw himself into training instead. When he had to leave Sam and Jess, Benny and Pam quickly took him in and kept him grounded. Benny went through his condo and poured out all his liquor, telling him that falling for the bottle wasn't going to fix anything. Pam encouraged him to get involved in community activities.

At first, the local youth organization wasn't too keen on having Dean volunteer with the kids, but the kids were over the moon about it. Dean taught them self-defense and kick boxing on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and he'd try to bring pizza or ice cream with him as a treat.

He still worried about Cas every minute he was alone. He'd read the lyrics over or listen to the album, and wonder if maybe neither of them had been ready for what they had unleashed. It seemed like they were fighting a losing battle.

Dean got word that Castiel had gotten out of rehab three weeks before his fight with Alastair. There was another media frenzy, with every outlet wanting to score the interview with the Castiel about what had driven him over the edge, but he turned down every last one. Meg Master's had several colorful quotes attributed to her about how disgusting the media was to prey on people the way they did. Even the quiet drummer, Anna, had told one interviewer they could suck her drumstick when they asked about Castiel's breakdown.

\---

Dean was lying in bed, unable to sleep as was the case lately, when his phone started to ring. It was half past three in the morning, and it was an unknown number, so Dean almost denied the call, but for some reason he hit accept. What was one more intrepid journalist when he couldn't sleep anyway?

“Hello?”

“Why'd you take the fight?” It was Castiel. Dean would know that deep, husky voice anywhere.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Dean asked, sitting up.

“I haven't slept well in months. I'm sober, but my hands still shake for cigarettes that no one is letting me have. I've puked on myself more times in the last three months than I did as an infant, and none of my bandmates will leave me alone in a room with sharp objects. Meg is sitting next to me now, scowling because I stole her phone to call you. But you didn't answer my question—why did you accept his challenge?” Castiel asked again, sounding ragged. That explained the unknown number.

“I need to face him, Cas. No one's ever scared me as much as him, not even my old man. He did a number on me. It's got nothing to do with proving anything to anyone but me. I need to prove to myself I can step into the cage with him, that he doesn't hold that over me,” Dean told him, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

“It's not because of everything that happened? It's not because of me?” Castiel asked him.

“No, Cas. Don't blame yourself for this. This has nothing to do with us,” Dean promised him. Maybe it did have something to do with them. Maybe Dean felt stronger after what they'd shared. Maybe he wasn't afraid to move past the things that almost buried him in the past. But none of that was what Castiel needed to hear.

“I called when I heard you were in rehab. I hope you don't believe I blame you for what happened,” Dean told him.

“Meg let me hear the message on visitor's day. Thank you for that. It made things easier,” Castiel said. He didn't quite sound like he believed it.

“I didn't deny it, Cas. I'm not sorry it happened, and I hope to God you aren't either. I wish I could've been there for you, but I didn't really know if I'd be welcome,” Dean said, gripping the phone like someone might try to take it away.

“You're always welcome, Dean. I don't regret it. I...I'm sorry, it's late. I'll let you sleep.”

“Cas, wait. It's been months. Don't hang up,” Dean begged.

“I'm sorry, I've got to go, Dean.” The line went dead before Dean could reply. Dean threw his phone across the room, but he didn't feel any better as he heard the supposedly shatter proof case do just that against the wall.

\---

Dean's training took a hit after he heard from Cas. He was worried about him. The band had announced the new tour dates, but they were keeping tight lipped about Castiel's condition. Dean felt helpless, as helpless as he'd felt when Alastair had taunted him while beating him bloody all those years ago. As helpless as he'd felt when all his insecurities were exposed to him, and he'd had little hope of fighting back.

Benny threw up his hands one day when Dean left himself open for one hell of a hit. Benny hadn't taken it. He had grabbed Dean and thrown him against the cage though, telling him to pull himself together if he didn't want to get himself killed.

Pam had been the one to sit with him that night and let him lay it all out. After some coaxing, he told her everything, and when it was all out there, she'd looked at him straight in the eye and told him to get over himself.

“If you love him, call Meg back and demand to speak to him. Stop letting this fuck you up because you don't have the balls to go get him. Jesus, it's taken you half your life to face Alastair and the damage he did to you. Are you going to let this thing with Castiel fuck you up for that long before you tell him you love him?” Maybe Pam hadn't been the gentlest person to confide in, but she was right.

Dean went back to his condo that night and ate reheated pizza for dinner. He was grateful that Benny and Pam were looking out for him, but he hated intruding on their lives. So, he'd left before Benny could insist Dean tried his most recent culinary experiment, and he'd gone home.

He watched reruns of  _ Dr. Sexy _ while he ate, and he stared at his cellphone. Meg's number blurred before his eyes, he'd been looking at it for so long.

Finally, Dean hit call, waiting only a couple seconds before hanging up. What was he even going to say to her? What would he say to Cas if she left them speak? He took a steadying breath. This was ridiculous. He'd never worried about calling a lover before. 

This time when Dean called, he didn't hang up. He waited until it went to voicemail, and then he hung up because he didn't know what he should say.

Dean punched the pillow on the couch several times. “This is stupid. I fucked him. I have a right to speak to him if he wants to speak to me. Why the hell is this so hard...Get it together, Winchester,” he told himself as he watched Dr. Sexy literally charm the pants off another member of the staff. He could do this just like Dr. Sexy did.

Dean called a third time, and this time someone answered on the second ring.

“Who the hell is calling me at this hour? I swear to god if you'e one of those asshole reporters, I'm going to cut off your balls with a rusty knife and feed them to my dogs,” a woman's voice growled into the phone.

Dean bit his lip. This must be Meg. She sounded like she meant every word she said, but it was too late to back out now.

“It's Dean Winchester. I was hoping to speak to Cas,” Dean said, staring blankly at the TV screen.

“Why the hell are you calling me then? I'm not his secretary,” she said, but Dean sensed a hint of amusement in her tone.

“I haven't gotten through on his line, and I had your—”

“Ever consider he doesn't want to speak to you, Dean?”

“No, actually, I hadn't.”

“Of course not. You guys never think anyone could possibly move on after they've had your dick. Cas isn't here.”

“Any idea when he'll be back? I'd really like to speak with him,” Dean said, trying to keep his tone steady.

“He's out with Anna seeing a movie or some lame shit like that, but I'll give you some advice, Dean. Cas isn't really holding himself together too well. Stares into space, doesn't talk for hours at a time, shakes when the cravings get bad. He can't take care of himself and someone else, so if you care about him the way his songs make it sound like you do, you'll fix your shit, and you won't bother him until you're sure than you can be what he needs you to be. If you can't do that, do both of you a favor and fuck off like everyone else. It's not fair, but right now you can't half-ass it with him, or both of you are going to suffer. I'm not just protecting my band; I'm protecting my best friend, and that threat about balls goes for you as well if you break him too.”

Dean swallowed. Meg didn't mince words, and he had no doubt she'd follow through on her threats, but he wasn't really afraid of her. 

“I'm trying to sort my shit out. I just wanted to see how he was doing,” Dean told her.

“Better, but considering I found him not breathing, in a pool of his own vomit, before he went to rehab, that really isn't saying all that much.”

Dean felt like he'd been punched in the gut. All of his air abandoned him, and he felt like he was drowning. “Was that...”

“It wasn't because of you. Seriously, men and thinking their dicks have magical powers that make people go crazy. If you were the reason he started mixing his uppers with his downers with his psychotropics, we wouldn't be having this conversation.” 

“What's happening to Uriel?” Dean asked, hoping it wasn't the wrong thing to say.

“If you ever bring that name up around Cas, so help me...” She paused, and Dean could feel her trying to calm her anger just as Dean had done the few times he'd let himself think of Cas' former bodyguard. “He's in the wind, Dean. Took his money and ran, but if he ever surfaces again, it won't be pretty, I can promise you that.”

“And his family?”

“Those scumbags just wanted a quick buck. Their sham religious organization is constantly calling our lawyers looking for a handout, but Cas won't give them a cent. They've threatened all sorts of legal actions, but nothing sticks. So, they made a few appearances, got their money, and went on their way. They'll do it again when that money runs out, but Cas doesn't care what they do. Now, leave me alone because I was in the middle of an episode of  _ Dr. Sexy _ , and I don't like being interrupted.”

“Which one?” Dean latched onto the lighter topic.

“The one where Dr. Sexy and Nurse Melanie have sex in the morgue.”

“Good episode.”

“I know, so hang up, Casanova. By the way, Cas hates  _ Dr. Sexy _ . Good luck breaking him of that,” she said before hanging up on him.

Dean looked down at his phone a little surprised that she hung up. Cas' dislike for quality television was the least of Dean's concerns at the moment. He took what Meg said to heart though. If he wanted to be with Cas, he had to get his own life in order. They were in different places, but that didn't mean they always had to be. 

Dean finished his now cold pizza as he thought about his fight. Just a few more days, and it would all be over. Just a few more days, and there would be nothing standing between him and fixing things with Cas. Dean looked down at his hands. Things with Cas weren't broken. Maybe their lives were a little bit broken, but their time together had been anything but. Dean sighed. He needed to do this fight. He couldn't back out because he wanted to go to Cas. He couldn't spend the rest of his life running, or things wouldn't work out with Cas the same way they didn't work out with others in the past. Maybe Alastair wasn't the monster under his bed growing up, but he was the face a lot of Dean's monsters took. 

He and Sam were safe now and successful in their own right. Sam worked through his troubled past by helping those in similar situations, but Dean had always been a fighter, and he needed to face his past to move on. 

Dean turned off the TV, thinking that he should really get some sleep. Though he did find himself wondering if Meg even had dogs as he walked up to his room. He ended up googling her, and she did—three of them to be exact. They looked like the kind of monsters that would enjoy eating a man's testicles. He fell asleep wondering if she'd fed them any before.

\---

Dean stepped into the cage without looking back. There had been cheers and well as boos as he'd entered, but Dean tried to block it all out. He'd made it this far; he couldn't back out now. He was going to face his fears.

Alastair didn't waste any time before taunting him. The ref had told him to quiet down once, but just looking at Alastair, he could feel the cruel words like they crept across his skin.

Dean checked his mouth guard and tried to find his center. This wasn't going to be easy. Alastair had taken every opportunity to drag Dean's name through the mud, but Dean hadn't hurled anything back. This wasn't about proving himself to them. This was for him.

The first punch was for him too. Alastair was lightning fast and delivered the blow to Dean's shoulder as Dean went to block. Alastair didn't let up after that. He kept the punches and kicks coming so fast that Dean could barely keep up.

Dean felt every hit like another nail being hammered into his coffin. He didn't think he was going to win this. He didn't think he had enough rage for the world left in him.

Alastair made quick jabs, getting Dean in the ribs as Dean tried to take him down. Dean used his knees, bringing them up to close the opening and try to get a hit on Alastair at the same time. Dean got a few hits in, but each time he went to get Alastair on the ground and grapple, Alastair dodged him. 

Dean made it through the first and second round because he'd trained for years to take a beating. He felt exactly where ever bruise would blossom in the morning, and they ached deep into the tissue. Alastair knew how to make each hit count. So did Dean, but his hits had to connect to be effective, and Alastair was doing a good job of getting out of the way. 

Dean survived the third with sheer determination. Alastair pummeled him, pushing him back and forcing him to take the defensive. He had several years on Dean, but he fought like he had endless stores of energy to draw from. Dean's whole body ached from each hit he'd had to weather. This wasn't the fight he wanted to be remembered for. This wasn't the stand off with his past he'd imagined. Dean felt like the same scared teenager he'd been years ago, facing off against a man bigger than him with far more experience.

And then Alastair opened his mouth.

“I hear your boy likes it rough, Deanie,” he said when he got in close. “I could show him what a real man's like. Open him up. Make him scream for me,” Alastair taunted. “Kind of like I made you scream last time we did this.”

A penalty was called for abusive language, but Alastair wasn't too concerned with points when he was so far ahead of Dean.

Dean didn't say anything, but he got in a hard punch to Alastair's ribs. He followed it up with a leg sweep, but Alastair kept his balance.

“Is he still going to want you when I unman you, Dean? Is anyone?” Alastair's smile was off-putting even with the mouth guard in place.

Dean felt himself starting to listen to Alastair's words instead of focusing on his movements. It was dangerous, and it was how Alastair won a lot of fights. Dean tried to find his center again, getting his rhythm back, but Alastair kept taunting him—sometimes verbally, other times with his eyes. He had eyes that would haunt Dean until he died.

Alastair hit him close to the cage, and Dean's head snapped back, impacting with the links. Dean staggered forward, trying to clear his vision. Dean tried not to think about being at Alastair's mercy, but flashes of Alastair breaking his arm invaded his thoughts.

“Or maybe you'll be the one on the leash after this,” Alastair said, pressing back in for another flurry of hits. All those words did was make him think of Cas and how much control Cas had over himself. Dean dug deep looking for any measure of control. Dean side stepped, spun, and stared Alastair down.

Dean let go of all the doubts that were keeping him from fighting. He let go of his worries about losing and his fears outside the cage. He stopped thinking and just moved.

He took the next hit Alastair dealt him, without blocking in order to run him straight into the cage. The impact was so hard that Alastair's head snapped back against the chain links. Dean didn't stop though, his used his strength to take Alastair to the floor.

Dean didn't register the hits his body was taking. His entire focus was on Alastair and bringing him down. He straddled Alastair even though Alastair's limbs were longer than his, and there was a greater chance of him countering. Dean was just concerned with delivering every hit he could.

His arms fought him, heavy from several rounds of exertion. Still he brought them up, delivering punches and pounding Alastair to the mat as fast as he could.

When he let himself see, Alastair was bruised and bloody. His counter hits had gotten sloppy. Dean pulled his arm back once more and hit him in the jaw, knocking him out cold.

Dean pushed himself off, and waited to get out of there. He just wanted this to be over. He'd done what he needed to. His entire body hurt, and he wanted to go home with Sam and watch his niece sleep peacefully, because Sam would never let her childhood become theirs. She'd never have to fight or steal to keep clothes on her back and food in her stomach.

Benny and Bobby held Dean up as he staggered back to the locker room. He didn't stop for autographs this time. The cheers were riotous, but that was just excitement. It wasn't for him. Death threats, revoked sponsorship, slurs and curses were Dean's. These cheers were just hollow. Some truly meant them, and Dean didn't doubt that this whole mess gave hope to people just like him, but it was over. His time to make a legend was passing. He could retire with his title intact now. Not even Alastair could take that from him. Dean didn't care if no one ever wanted to fight him again—this wouldn't be all his life amounted to.

Dean didn't hear anything Benny or Bobby said as he stumbled toward Sam. He'd wanted to be down by the cage, but Dean had asked him to stay in the locker room this time. Sam pulled him into a tight hug, and Dean returned it, burying his fingers in Sam's hair.

“So, about retirement,” Dean said, though his voice was hoarse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of drug abuse, mentions of overdose


	10. Chapter 10

It had been hell getting tickets to The Garrison's tour opener; Dean had had to pay an extra five hundred dollars to get someone else's ticket to the sold out show. At least he was close to the stage. He'd be able to muscle his way to the front.

He was surprised by how sharp thirteen year olds' elbows were when he tried to move up before The Garrison came on stage. The girl's dirty look was equally as powerful.

“My boyfriend's coming up next, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop throwing bows,” Dean told the girl who didn't even come up to his shoulders.

Her mouth flopped open, and he quickly pushed further into the crowd before she could say anything. He almost got into a fight with a massive guy as he tried to get around him, but by then the set was starting.

Dean looked up at the stage as the bass line started up. Dean froze; it was the intro to the album, and even after months, Dean still got hard as soon as Castiel started moaning.

Anna hit the kick drum, and there he was. Castiel sauntered out onto the stage wearing a pair of low slung leather pants and his leather collar. He moaned into the mic, arching his back, causing his nipple piercings to catch the spotlight. Dean's breath rushed out of him as he saw Cas looking healthier than even when Dean had been with him.

The stage went dark again as the bass continued until Anna slapped the snare with the brush, and light flooded the stage as Castiel cried out. They flowed right into their first single after that. Castiel was full of energy as he bounced around the stage to egg on the crowd.

They had a fifth member tonight, instead of Castiel, Gabe was playing guitar, covering him for the most part while Castiel stuck to vocals. The smaller man was excellent, and it was actually awesome to see Cas free to move around without a guitar weighing him down.

Castiel didn't speak much between songs. Dean had watched a couple live videos, and Castiel had always explained his thoughts between songs or dedicated them to various. Castiel didn't do that tonight. He put on one hell of a show, but Dean could tell wounds were still fresh, and he didn't trust himself to speak freely.

They played for almost two hours, dipping back into their catalog as well as playing their new songs. Castiel was in the middle of “Bruised Knees” when Dean made it to the front of the crowd. People pushed and shoved trying to get closer, but Dean was solid enough to take it easily.

Castiel had just fallen to his knees singing the last chorus when he looked out at the crowd and locked eyes on Dean. His voice caught on the note, but he kept going, never taking his eyes away from Dean's in the front row. He didn't let it stop him though. He finished the set, and the band walked off.

The crowd was wild as they waited for the encore. They cheered and yelled, but only Castiel came back on stage after several minutes. He held an acoustic guitar in one hand and a stool in the other. He set himself up and took a seat in front of the microphone.

“This isn't what we planned for the encore,” he said to start. He strummed a note on his guitar, fiddled with the strings until it was to his liking.

“This isn't what we planned, but I guess I need to get some things off my chest. I'm sorry we had to cancel the original tour because of me. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I live with them, but I don't like when my mistakes affect other people, and so many of them. So, I apologize to everyone who had to get refunded and wait for this tour instead, and for everyone who can't make it to this tour for whatever reason.

“This album turned out to be so much more than I expected it to be. It ended up being all about opening myself back up. It turned out to be about realizing how incredible it felt to trust someone with all of myself. And everyone on the planet now knows who this album was all about. I'm not allowed to read the articles or listen to the news. Meg screens all of my calls for me. So, I don't know exactly what the media's said about Dean since I went to rehab, but I'm sure none of it was nice. So, I just want to set it straight that he never abused me, and he never did anything to me that I didn't want. Hell, he made sure I ate and drank properly after we'd play, because I've never been great at taking care of myself. Anyway, Dean isn't the reason I went to rehab, or had a meltdown.

“I had a meltdown because just after I'd learned how to trust people again, someone very close to me betrayed me. Someone I trusted my life with sold my shot at happiness to a shitty tabloid parading as music magazine. I didn't really know what to do, so I drank, and I smoked, and I did everything but call the person I knew who could help. The person I knew would drop everything to make sure I was okay because that's the kind of guy he is.

“But when I went to rehab, he didn't have any trouble calling me. And how embarrassing is it to have to have my best friend play the message he left me in the wide open visiting area at rehab, for anyone to hear, because I couldn't just call him when I got into trouble?”

Castiel was watching Dean as he spoke, his fingers tapped on the body of his guitar restlessly, and Dean knew he was dying for a cigarette. Dean was dying to hold him, let him know that he wasn't going anywhere.

“Anyway, the encore I have for you tonight is for him, because I promised him that if he came to a show, I'd sing one of the songs that didn't make the album. So, here goes,” Castiel said before starting to play.

He played “Green Eyed Monster” watching Dean the whole time. The crowd was quiet as they listened to the new song, and Castiel's voice was just as haunting as Dean always imagined it would be. Dean felt like he'd gone three rounds with Benny as Cas belted out the chorus.

 

Take my commands you say, it's for my own good

Meet my demands you say, I'm looking out for you

But how can you know when you barely know me?

 

Trust me you say, I've got your back

Don't fight it you say, it's what you need

But how can you know when you barely know me?

 

But you were right, I didn't trust

I only fought, and still you were there

this green eyed monster

who knew me better than I knew myself

 

When it ended, Castiel started playing the opening chords to “Take the Lead.” Dean felt like he was being pulled in several directions. He didn't have enough time to process just how incredible “Green Eyed Monster” sounded live, and he was being hit by with the song that had made him cry more times than he was will to admit over the last couple of months.

Dean still didn't know why the previous song hadn't made the album. Even acoustically, the sound had been a show stopper. Cas' voice had carried the ragged emotions they'd both felt as they tried to figure out what they meant to each other.

Dean took a breath as Cas repeated the intro to “Take the Lead,” seemingly in no hurry to get it going. This was it. This was the song that had given him courage when he didn't think he could stand the media attention or didn't want to step back into the cage. Cas had taken the lead in his life as much as he'd done so in Cas'. He'd opened a new world for Dean, one where he existed for more than just the next punch. He opened Dean up to the life he'd already been living but never realized.

Everything else faded to the background as Cas began to sing. The man elbowing him in the ribs, the buzz from the beer he'd used for courage, the flash of cameras, the girl singing along beside him. They all disappeared because Cas was singing to him even if he was looking down at his fingers on the guitar instead of at Dean.

 

You made love like you could really see me

Scarred and broken but still in one piece

So I let you take the lead

 

You can see that it hurts me to do this

But understand why I still need it

Parts of you so much like me

 

You open up all of my festering wounds

let me bleed to drain the infection

then bandage me with your love

 

You made love like you could really see me

Scarred and broken but still in one piece

So I let you take the lead

 

God it hurts but you've got me

Hold me together so I can still breath

So can I give in to my need

 

So I let you take the lead

Let you take the lead

Let you take me

 

Castiel's voice faded off as he continued to play his guitar. He hadn't looked out at the audience once while he'd played, but as he strummed the last chords of the song, he looked up through glassy eyes and added a little more to the song.

 

So won't you please take the lead

Won't you just come and take me

Rebuild and make me

whole again

 

 

The crowd went crazy as Castiel finished, and the lights went down. Dean watched Castiel get up and walk off the stage as people cheered and hurled all sorts of colorful phrases at him. Dean almost jumped out of his skin when Meg Masters appeared in front of him on the other side of the barrier. The woman was terrifying, and Dean couldn't even put his finger on why.

“Well, aren't you going to storm the barrier and get your unicorn, Dean, or do I have to tell Castiel you had somewhere else to be?” she asked him, looking for all the world the disinterested bitch the media painted her as, but clearly she wasn't at all.

Dean pushed himself up to climb over as the crowd already started to disperse. One of the security guards helped him, while half a dozen others made sure no one else got any ideas.

“Good choice,” Meg told him beckoning him to follow her. She led him back stage which was littered with all sorts of people from VIP ticket holders to executives and managers.

Everyone seemed to clear for Meg as she walked through. Several of the more important looking people even looked frightened of her, and she walked by without acknowledging a single one of them. Dean had a feeling she had as much of a stage persona as Castiel did.

“He can't come out with all the drugs and liquor around back here. It's still too fresh,” she explained. “Usually, I'd sit with him, but I'm guessing you to don't want me sticking around for this,” she said before opening the door.

Castiel was sitting in the dimly lit room alone with nothing but a bottle of water. He looked up at them, and when he saw Dean his shoulders sagged in relief. This was not the man that had marched up to Dean's hotel room full of bravado and asked Dean to put him on his knees. This Castiel was already there, and this time he needed someone to help him stand back up again.

Dean didn't say anything as he walked into the room and knelt in front of Cas, taking his hands in his own. He could feel the tremor running through them. It couldn't be easy going back to a job that was surrounded by all of the things Cas couldn't touch.

“I've got a proposition for you,” Dean finally said.

“What's that?” Castiel's voice sounded like sandpaper, nothing like how beautifully he'd sung only minutes earlier.

“I want to give us a go. No time limit. No excuses. No hiding. Just us and whatever feels right,” Dean told him.

“Why me?” Cas echoed what Dean had asked him all those months before.

“Because I know you're the one, and I'm don't want to walk away from this.”

“I don't either,” Cas told him, leaning down to rest his forehead against Dean's. “I'm still pretty messed up.”

“I'm no walk in the park either, Cas. We weren't perfect when we started this and we both knew it. I'm not looking for easy. I just want you.”

“I want you too.”

“Yeah, I know, you just told an entire arena full of people that you wanted me,” Dean joked, pulling Cas into his arms.

Cas laughed brokenly, but he returned the embrace. “I accept your proposition,” he said, and Dean pulled back just enough to lean in and kiss him gently. So much of their lives hadn't been gentle, but this called for tenderness, and Dean meant to do this right.

 

 

THE END


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had written part of an epilogue when I'd originally posted this fic, and I told myself maybe I'd post it in about six months if I felt like revisiting the story at all. I completely forgot about that until yesterday when this fic hit 1,000 kudos, and it just happened to be the day before six months from when I posted. So, I had today off and was in the mood, so now there's an epilogue. I hope it ties things up nicely since Cas and Dean were still in pretty rough shape at the end of the story.
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the comments and kudos on this fic! You guys have been absolutely wonderful, and I'm so glad that so many people have enjoyed this story.

Dean walked over to the bed in nothing but a pair of gym shorts. He was sweaty from a long workout, and his muscles ached from exerting himself. It still felt good to go through his old routines even if he wasn't fighting anymore.

He grabbed Cas' foot, which was the only part of him that stuck out from beneath the covers, and he shook it. He'd told Cas, when he left him an hour ago, that he needed to get his ass out of bed—not that he expected Cas to listen to him.

“Wuh?” Cas mumbled from beneath the blankets.

“I'm taking a shower.”

“Good for you,” Cas deadpanned.

It had been six months, and Cas hadn't gotten any easier to deal with in the morning. The man could go like the Energizer bunny all night, but as soon as the sun came up, he didn't want to be disturbed until noon. Dean grumbled to himself about rock stars.

“I'm already late for work, Cas. Come on,” Dean told him, giving him another shove for good measure.

“Maybe if you didn't insist on working out all morning, you wouldn't be late.”

“Or maybe if we didn't fuck for an hour...”

“Lies. Leave me alone or come back to bed and remind me exactly what we did,” Cas said.

“I can't be late for work, Cas.”

“And that means _I_ have to get up?”

“Afraid so,” Dean told him.

“Can't you just tell them to fuck off? You've got more important things to do, like tie me to the headboard.” Cas used the same arguments every time Dean tried to drag him out of bed. If Dean was feeling particularly spiteful, he'd punish Cas for being difficult, but most days he endured the slow process of getting his boyfriend to join the world of the living. Six months, and Dean still didn't understand “rock star hours. Part of him expected that he never would understand them.

“We aren't going to be late for another interview because they _always_ blame me. They already call me Yoko, Cas. By the way, if Gabriel sends me another framed headline proclaiming me 'the end of The Garrison,' I'm going to kick his ass,” Dean told him, tearing back the covers. Cas was sprawled out in nothing but a pair of red satin panties. Dean shook his head. “You really aren't making this easy.”

“I don't want you getting soft.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the double entendre. He hauled Cas over his shoulder and marched toward the bathroom, slapping Cas' ass as he went and laughing when Cas growled at him.

“I'm rock royalty, Dean. You cannot manhandle me like a sack of flour.”

Without warming, Dean dumped Cas into the massive tub that he'd filled before going to get Cas. Cas gasped, splashing around until he got himself righted. Dean laughed at how water dripped over his face and down his chest.

“I could fire you for that,” Cas told him, pushing his hair back out of his face, then shaking the water out of it like a dog.

Dean grinned, dropping his shorts and joining Cas. “Then who would be the Kevin Costner to your Whitney Huston?”

“Maybe someone who understands my hatred for mornings,” Cas complained, splashing Dean as Dean tried to pull him into his arms.

“Tell your manager to stop booking morning interviews then.” They had been through this a hundred times.

“The last time I told Crowley to stop giving me morning anything, he double the number of them.”

“Sounds like him,” Dean conceded. He grabbed Cas' arms as he went to splash again, and reeled Cas in. “How about this Cas? If you get through this interview, I promise I'll fuck you back stage while the openers play tonight,” Dean whispered against Cas' ear, pulling Cas into his lap.

“You'll do that anyway,” Cas retorted, grinding down on Dean.

“Maybe I will, or maybe I'll make you wait 'til after. Is that a chance you want to take? I know how much you hate to gamble,” Dean coaxed.

“Dean,” Cas moaned, “Can't we just stay here and fuck now? Forget the interview, forget the show...”

“You don't mean that,” Dean told him, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Cas' cock. Since Dean had come on tour with the band, Cas' excuses hadn't changed. Cas had changed a lot though.

He was getting better at taking care of himself. Even though Dean was never far, Cas was taking responsibility of his own health and well-being. He was staying clean too. Sometimes he would beg Dean to buy him a pack of cigarettes or he'd follow Meg around inhaling the smell of smoke off her clothes, but he hadn't lit one up in four months.

Cas was even able to party after shows again without relapsing. He never stayed out without Dean though. Once he'd gone out with Meg, but that was because Dean was visiting Sam. He'd called Dean afterward and talked for over an hour about how much his skin itched. Dean had just told him he was proud of him and that he'd make sure Cas was duly rewarded upon his return.

There were even some mornings that Cas didn't fight Dean about getting out of bed at a reasonable hour. He worked out with Dean at least three times a week, and he even wore underwear once in a while. And contrary to what the magazines would have one believe, The Garrison was doing better than ever.

Dean hadn't realized how close the whole band was until he invited himself on tour with them because he refused to let Cas out of his sight until he decided he was going to be okay. The band bickered like siblings, but there was an overwhelming love that showed in all of their interactions. Dean could have done without the death threats, but he was glad that Cas did have a family that loved him. It wasn't traditional, but nothing about Cas was.

“Dean, you're thinking again,” Cas complained, rutting against him.

“Just thinking about how proud of you I am,” Dean told him.

“Don't get weepy on me before noon, Dean. I can't handle your tears _and_ an interview,” Cas groaned.

“Fuck you, I'm not weepy,” Dean said, slapping Cas' ass as he pulled him closer. Cas moaned, doubling the speed of his hips. Dean pushed up against him, hard as well.

“You get misty eyed every time I sing 'Take the Lead' for an encore. You aren't fooling anyone. Sam even has video of it,” Cas said, gripping Dean's shoulders tightly. Dean could tell he was close, his body was shaking just the slightest bit like it always did when he was about to come.

“I'd kill him for that, but I can't leave poor Mary without a father, as much of an asshole as her father is,” Dean complained, stroking Cas just a little faster.

“I swear to God, Dean, if you ruin this erection with talk of your niece I will never forgive you,” Cas told him, rutting against him desperately.

“You're the one that brought up Sam during sex. What is it you'd rather I talk about?” Dean asked, using his thumb to tease the head of Cas' cock.

“Tell me what you'll do if I don't behave at my interview,” Cas said, eyes drooping closed as he clearly held himself back from coming. Dean smiled. For as much control over his body as Cas had, he was incredibly easy to wind up. And for all of Dean's worries at the start about what they'd set out to do, Cas wasn't all that hard to figure out. Maybe it was just that he was comfortable with Dean, but all Dean needed to do to get Cas absolutely desperate was hint at some sort of punishment for misbehavior.

“If you don't behave, I'll come out on stage in the middle of your set and put you over my knee,” Dean told him, manhandling Cas until his chest rested against the edge of the tub, and his back faced Dean. Dean reached around him and continued to stroke him over the band of his panties as he continued. “The ladies in the front row will get the show of their lives when I tear down those tight leather pants to reveal your plugged hole,” Dean said, roughly pulling down the red satin that covered Cas' ass. He circled his finger around Cas' hole, which caused Cas to whimper.

Dean pulled his fingers back. “I'll spread your cheeks wide for everyone to see, then I'll spank you until your ass is bright red and aching,” Dean told him, bringing his hand down to hit Cas' already rosy and sensitive cheeks .

Cas cried out, jolting forward as he came hard in Dean's hand. Dean hit him again, and Cas shouted again. Dean felt another dribble of come slip over his fist and into the water. “And when I'm done with you, I'll attach your leash and lead you off stage on your hands and knees with your pants still around your thighs. Is that what you want to hear?” Dean asked as he cupped his hand and brought the warm water in the tub up and poured it over Cas' ass, soothing it.

Cas shuddered, relaxing into Dean's arms. Dean kissed Cas' shoulders and pulled him back to curl up in his lap. Cas tilted his head up, eyes closed and lip quivering. Dean pressed his lips to Cas' in a gentle kiss.

“Are you going to be on your best behavior?” Dean asked, kissing along his jaw and nipping tenderly at his earlobe. Humiliation was a tightrope with Cas. He enjoyed the fantasy of being laid bare and humiliated, but it wasn't something he enjoyed as much in practice because it brought back memories of his childhood. However, some of the most powerful orgasms Dean had wrung from him were after telling him one of these sorts of fantasies.

“I'll consider it,” Cas told him, turning in his lap. He straddled Dean, grinding down on his erection as he began to kiss him in earnest.

Dean groaned as Cas reached between them and gripped Dean tightly. Cas wasted no time in stroking him. Dean sighed, feeling the tension return to his aching muscles, but this time the strain was from pleasure rather than a hard workout. Cas knew just what to do to bring him to the edge, keeping his grip firm and paying plenty of attention to his head and balls.

He almost screamed when Cas slipped off his lap in the massive tub and dipped his head below the water. His hair fanned out on the surface of the water as he took Dean's cock in his mouth deeply. Dean gripped Cas' hair and thrust up into his mouth as Cas held his breath. It didn't take long before Dean was coming down Cas' throat.

Cas coughed as Dean pulled him up by his hair, afraid he'd accidentally drown himself for the sake of getting Dean off. Cas gave him a lopsided grin, and Dean rolled his eyes pulling him in for another kiss. He could still taste his own come in Cas' mouth.

Dean made sure they washed away any evidence of their fun before helping Cas out of the bath. He carefully removed the wet panties from Cas, happy to find that he hadn't torn them as he'd tugged them down. Dean constantly lamented the number of pairs of panties they ruined during their scenes. Come was easy enough to clean, but Dean or Cas had a tendency to tear the flimsy scraps of material when in the moment. They were lucky Cas had more money than he knew what to do with because their lingerie bills were excessive.

Wrapping a towel around Cas, Dean leaned in and kissed his jaw. “Shave before we go. You look like a mountain man,” he told him, stepping away from Cas to go get dressed.

“I thought you liked the scruff,” Cas called after him.

“I do, but you should look professional for your interview,” Dean retorted.

“I'm a musician. Unkempt is like the tuxedo of my profession,” Cas said, leaning through the doorway with his face half covered in shaving cream already. Dean just shook his head and started making the bed since Cas certainly wasn't going to.

“Just hurry up, Cas. We're already late,” Dean told him.

“Dean, I'm _Castiel_. I can't be late. I'm just adding to their anticipation, and enhancing their experience of the big pay off,” Cas corrected.

“Well, I'm Dean Winchester, and I'm capable of being late, so get your ass in gear.”

\---

Dean stood behind the cameras and lights with his arms crossed, fingers flexing then balling into a fist. Despite how playful Cas had been that morning, Dean wasn't sure he was ready for an invasive interview. He looked good in his suit even if it looked slightly wrong. Cas belonged in loose linen shirts and tight leather pants. The suit was far too 9-5 to be Castiel even if he looked delectable in it.

Dean adjusted his stance as Cas fidgeted on the sofa. The whole place was decorated to look like a casual interview in someone's home, but it was all fake. It was an office building with a space just for “intimate” interviews. Dean hated how everything around Cas was fake from the prop living room to the artificial plants they'd strategically placed around the room.

So much of Cas' life was artificial, and it worried Dean. He didn't understand how Cas could keep hold of himself when everything around him was a lie. Everything but Dean and his music.

Cas had thrown himself into writing in the face of his sobriety. Everyone had speculated that he'd never write another album if they took the drugs away, but Cas was more prolific than ever. He wrote stupid songs about Dean doing the dishes or folding the laundry. He said it was because those were things he'd never paid attention to before Dean started living with him. His bodyguard had always handled it while Cas did his own thing.

He wrote about everything though, not just sex anymore. He'd written and recorded a lullaby for Sam's daughter after meeting her and Sam's wife the first time, and Sam told them that Mary fell asleep to it every night.

Cas also wrote about things that hurt now. He wrote about things that mattered to him instead of avoiding those things at all cost. He wrote about the itch he got when he was feeling low. He wrote about a dozen odes to cigarettes because he still missed them even if he really was happy to be free of them along with everything else. He wrote about the days he felt so low that he couldn't get aroused, as well as the days he used sex to avoid his feelings. He wrote wrote about things that set him off like people speaking down to him as well as the stupid things that made his day.

Most of what Cas wrote only made it as far as Dean's ears. Cas would just sit on the sofa completely naked and play whatever came to mind. One song would fade into the next until Cas' voice was raw from the emotions he was forcing himself to release instead of bottling up.

When he couldn't sing anymore, Dean would kneel in front of him and remove the guitar from his lap. He'd kiss Cas' bare thighs and nuzzled the soft patch of hair above his cock. He'd take him in his mouth and blow him, making sure to make it last. Cas' hand would always find its way into his hair and cup the back of his head. Dean would swallow down every last drop of come before straddling Cas' hips and kissing him. He'd gently wipe away the tear tracks and hold Cas tightly.

Dean forced himself to focus as the interviewer got settled across from Cas. Dean didn't like the guy, but Crowley had insisted that Cas had to talk to this magazine to cement his comeback. Dean had cursed at Crowley until he was red in the face. The things this guy had printed when Cas had been hospitalized were awful, but Crowley had been adamant.

“Are you ready to begin?” the man asked. He'd made Cas wait an hour after they arrived an hour late. Dean knew he was being spiteful, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. Dean gave Cas shit about being late, but Cas was actually very rarely late to things. He never arrived late to fan events like signings or meet and greets. He was always early to those, and he always stayed late. He did unplanned things too, showing up at clubs or events and hanging out with fans. However, Cas didn't go out of his way for people who didn't respect him. He had a good relationship with plenty of journalists, but there were those he didn't like and this guy was one of them.

“I was ready when I got here, but it looks like your magazine must have told my people the wrong time because now we are starting two hours late,” Cas replied coolly.

Dean sighed. At least, Cas could hold his own. After all that had happened, Dean always worried about what would set Cas back, but Cas continued to prove that he could handle himself and everything that came with being who he was.

The man sputtered, clearly not having a valid excuse for his own tardiness. “Shall we start then?” he asked instead.

“By all means.”

Dean watched as Cas fielded the standard questions about his process and whether he was working on new material now that the tour was winding down. Cas was very articulate even when he was only giving half answers. Dean watched him sit calmly, sipping his water only when he needed a moment to think.

“In light of your mental breakdown and drug overdose, are you worried that relapse is likely in the future and how that will affect your career. People have been very forgiving of your behavior, but do you worry they won't stick by you again?” the man asked after nearly an hour of bland questions.

Dean nearly tossed the cameraman aside to wring the man's neck, but Cas gave him a sharp glance from where he sat. Dean held himself back, but he was fuming at the man's words. He had basically told Cas that he was going to start using again even though he knew nothing about Cas' habits. Very few people actually knew what or when Cas had used in the past. Even Dean didn't know all of it, but Cas had promised that he hadn't been using while they were together. Dean had accepted that, and he knew that one day Cas would tell him what he felt Dean needed to know. Until then, Dean wasn't going to push.

“I don't delude myself into believing that relapse isn't a possibility, but I have such a strong support system in my life now that I don't spend my time worrying that it's right around the corner. I spent a great deal of my time, before everything came to a head, worrying about my past and the things I had experienced. When my bodyguard betrayed my trust, I wasn't equipped to handle it. I trusted him with my life, and he went to the press about something very close to my heart. I felt like I'd lost everything that mattered, but I hadn't. If anything, it has shown me that I have plenty of people that care for me. The loyalty from my fans alone has gotten me through so many nights of doubt, but the support and friendship from my band and Dean's steadfast love has helped me make so much progress. They are there when I'm at my worse, and they inspire me at my best. I can't say that I won't have struggles in the future, but I think I know myself better now. I know my limitations and my needs, and I'm not spending all of my energy fighting myself that I need something to take the edge off. To answer your question, whether fans forgive my shortcomings in the future isn't something I can speculate about, but more importantly I'm learning to forgive my own shortcomings,” Cas told him, holding himself very straight to avoid showing any weakness.

Dean wanted to wrap the interview up. They'd gotten more than they needed to satisfy their readers and viewers. Dean wanted to get Cas out of there and make sure he was alright before he had to face an arena filled with thousands of fans that evening.

“Your last album was all about the illicit affair you had with former MMA super star Dean Winchester. Since you were released from rehab, the two of you have been together,” the man said. He had some balls bringing Dean up right in front of him. Cas rarely spoke about their relationship because of how Dean's career had ended. The press wasn't very kind to Dean even if they seemed to love Cas. From claiming he abused Cas to claiming he was tearing apart the band, Dean was public enemy number one when it came to fans of The Garrison. “I have to ask if your next album will be just as explicit in its exploration of your relationship? Everyone wants to know what's happening behind closed doors.”

Cas actually cleared his throat at that, probably remembering Dean's words from that morning. Dean felt his own cheeks heat at the insinuation. Considering the whole world knew the details of his craziest sexual experiences, Dean didn't often give it much thought. He loved that album, and he loved the unreleased tracks even more. It was hard to feel uncomfortable about something that allowed him to relive one of the best weeks of his life every time he heard it.

“I've actually been going in a whole new direction with my music. I don't like to get stuck with one idea or sound, so it was only natural to find a new muse for my writing. I'll be debuting a new song tonight, but overall my music...I think it's grown as much as I have these last few months. That's always a little frightening in this sort of business, but I think the worst possible way to sell out would be to keep repeating the same thing over and over just for the sake of selling records. As a whole, The Garrison has built itself on rebelling against the path people think we should follow. We make songs about sex when labels want songs about love, and I don't think anyone as ever mistaken my lyrics for sonnets. We've had plenty of success breaking the mold they made for us, so we aren't afraid of becoming irrelevant. If maturing means not selling as many records, then that's okay because giving up who we are as a band isn't an option.”

“So, no more music about Dean leading you around like a dog or bruising your knees from kneeling on them in punishment?” The man sounded so casual as he said it, and Dean wanted to wipe the smile off his face. He wanted to be locked in the cage with him for a round or two and show him that just because he wasn't a fighter anymore didn't mean he couldn't still throw a punch.

“If that's a particular interest of yours, perhaps you should find yourself someone to put you on your knees. I'm not against sharing, but I doubt you could handle Dean,” Cas told the man with a wink, then standing up to signify the end of the interview.

Dean strode forward, stepping between Cas and the interviewer and guiding him back to the dressing room with a gentle hand at the small of his back. He didn't doubt they'd kept filming them, but Dean didn't care. He needed to touch Cas, and reassure himself that Cas was alright.

“Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I know you wanted me to behave,” Cas whispered as they walked, their bodies pressed together leaving not doubt as to their intimacy with each other.

“No, he was an ass for asking those questions. I'm proud of your answers, even the last one,” Dean said, pressing his lips to Cas' temple as they slipped into the dressing room and closed the door. Dean pulled Cas into his arms as soon as the door was locked. They just held each other for a minute, both rubbing each others backs. Dean wasn't sure who was soothing who really. Cas seemed less upset about the interview than he was.

“I knew he was going to ask those things, Dean. Please don't worry about me,” Cas told him.

“They were inappropriate...”

“Crowley warned me. It will make a good story, build interest in the new material,” Cas said, nipping Dean's jawline.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“You would've been upset,” Cas said, running his fingers through Dean's hair.

“Because you shouldn't have to feed the damn wolves.”

Cas pulled back and looked him in the eye. “I'm not fragile, Dean. I'm not going to break because someone brings up what happened. I'm not going to relapse because someone mentions that I did drugs. I need to show people, especially the people that would use those things against me, that I'm not broken. I need to show people that I'm stable, and the band is stronger than ever. You take care of me every day, but I need to take care of myself too,” Cas said, leaning in and kissing him before he could reply.

Dean paused, taking the time to process Cas' words instead of going with his gut reaction. Cas used this tactic a lot when arguing with him, and it was incredibly effective.

“Next time, don't keep things from me. I can't do my job if I don't know everything. I almost walked over and punched that guy,” Dean said when they pulled apart.

“Hopefully, I won't have another interview like this for a while, but I'll tell you if it's going to be uncomfortable. Thank you for staying, and thank you for not assaulting him,” Cas said, stepping back and quickly removing the suit they'd put him in.

“I'll always be here, Cas,” Dean promised, watching him strip down to Dean's boxers since he didn't have any of his own. It tended to get awkward when he had to be dressed by strangers if he wore lingerie or nothing at all.

“Did I earn my reward?” Cas asked, flexing his muscles as he pulled down the boxers as well before shimmying into his leather pants. Dean bit his bottom lip as Cas tucked his semi hard cock into his pants and buttoned up the front. He still wasn't wearing a shirt, and Dean couldn't help himself from reaching out and tracing his tattoos.

“We'll see,” Dean told him, closing his mouth over Cas' nipple piercing.

\---

“How'd the interview go, Cassie?” Gabe asked, from the sofa he sat on with two very beautiful women he'd invited backstage.

Dean rolled his eyes. Gabe was a great musician, but he was hard to take as a person even on his best days. Cas didn't seem to mind his abrasive personality though.

“It went as expect, Gabriel. How did your orgy go last night?” Cas retorted. Dean almost spit out the soda he was drinking.

“Mind blowing, Cas. Absolutely mind blowing. Had I the talent that you do for words, I'd write an album about it,” Gabe said, pulling the two women closer to him.

“Let us be thankful that we don't depend on you to write our music, or we'd likely alienate everyone with ears and even a lick of common sense,” Cas retorted, plucking Dean's drink out of his hands and taking a sip. Dean had stopped drinking alcohol for the most part when he'd moved in with Cas. Part of it was solidarity, and part of it was that he was trying to work on the things that made him hit the bottle the same as Cas was. He still had a beer with Sam when it was just the two of them, but there was something nice about being able to sit with Cas and share a soda completely clearheaded.

“Oh, so when you have an orgy or crazy sex with Dean-o over there it's art, but when I have an orgy it's an affront to anyone with ears?”

“Yes,” Meg replied for Cas as she walked into the room. The women on either side of Gabe quickly got up and followed Meg to the hammock they always set up backstage. The three women curled up together in the massive net.

Gabriel looked equal parts devastated and turned on. It was not the first time that Meg had stolen his entertainment for the night. It always fascinated Dean that with little more than a raised eyebrow, Meg could have anyone who'd previously shown interest in Gabe. Even more incredible to Dean was the fact that more often than not, he found them doing nothing more than cuddling with the often sharp tongued bassist. Meg had sworn to kill him in his sleep if he ever told a living soul that she loved to cuddle, especially before a set.

Cas squeezed his thigh, looking at him from beneath heavy eyelids. Dean could read the arousal in his expression. The openers had taken the stage not five minutes ago, and there would still be another opener before The Garrison took the stage. Cas wanted his reward now though, and while Dean liked to believe that he was in charge, he wasn't about to keep Cas waiting.

“Let's give Meg some privacy,” Dean said, standing up and pulling Cas up beside him.

“Why would we do that? She stole my dates,” Gabe complained.

“Stop whining, Gabe. If you weren't an utter disappointment, they wouldn't need me to save them,” Meg retorted, nuzzling against one of the women's throats while the other massaged her back.

Dean pulled Cas out of the room before they got stuck in the middle of something they had no interest in being dragged into. “I'm glad Meg's been opening herself up more,” Cas whispered as Dean guided him to a dark corner behind the stage. He'd scoped the area out earlier, setting things up to his liking.

“Cas if we can't talk about my family during sex, we definitely can't talk about yours,” Dean told him, pressing Cas against one of the massive speakers they stored back there and trapping him with his own body.

“Are you jealous of Meg, Dean?” Cas teased him, and Dean knew he was doing it on purpose.

“Are you talking back to me?” Dean retorted, reaching around Cas to undo his pants.

“Of course not, Dean,” Cas said, spreading his legs a little.

Dean pulled Cas' pants down with such force that he was afraid he might have ripped them, but that just seemed to turn Cas on more—it wasn't like he didn't have another ten pairs in his dressing room. Dean wasn't surprised to find Cas wasn't wearing underwear, nor was he surprised to find one of Cas' largest plugs nestled between his cheeks.

“You expected this,” Dean said, trying to sound irritated by Cas' presumption.

“Hoped,” Cas replied.

“Turn around,” Dean said, taking Cas by the hips and spinning him around. He pushed Cas against the speaker hard, enjoying the way Cas gasped as it jarred the plug inside him.

Dean studied Cas' cock which was at full attention and sticking out proudly. The Prince Albert piercing he'd gotten recently was in again after Dean had removed it for safety reasons that morning. Dean hadn't been able to watch him get it. He'd almost passed out just watching them prep Cas, but Cas' hadn't so much as squeaked when they did it. As soon as it had healed enough, Dean found that it did in fact increase Cas' pleasure.

“Up,” Dean said, taking Cas by the hips and lifting hip up onto the massive speaker as Cas gave a valiant jump. As Cas got settled, it brought his cock almost to Dean's chest level. Dean smirked as he turned, reaching for the cords and plugging the speaker in.

Cas gasped as the vibrations from the speaker went straight through his plug. He groaned as he gripped the edges of the speaker as the song really got going, making him feel it most intimately. “Oh god,” Cas cried as the loud thump of the kick drum sent waves of pleasure through him.

Dean just watched as Cas' cock bobbed with each beat. “Spread your legs further,” Dean ordered loudly, smiling as Cas immediately complied. Dean pulled Cas' pants down to his ankles, so he could spread himself wide. “Beautiful,” Dean said, but he knew it was swallowed by the music.

Dean wasn't sure if Cas' impatience to get started was a reward or punishment because the first opener of the night was all heavy bass and banging drums. What it lacked in nuance was made up for with enthusiasm, and Cas was currently experiencing ever pulse and crash of their youthful exuberance.

Cas' screams—as his prostate was relentlessly stimulated with each vibration—were drowned out by the music, but Dean could hear them. He could see every bit of pleasure mingling with pain as Cas rode the speaker.

Dean leaned in, pulling Cas close so he could hear. “Look at you, getting off on this trash,” Dean said, teasing the slim piercing through the head of Cas' cock.

“Fuck,” Cas groaned as he reached for the base of his own cock. Dean beat him to it, holding it tightly.

“Not yet,” Dean told him, reaching up to twist Cas' nipple piercing through his shirt next. Cas bit his lip, and Dean could hear the whimper in his mind even though it was drowned out.

“Yes, sir,” Cas said, leaning in again for Dean to hear him.

“Good. They have two songs left. Can you last?” Dean asked him.

Cas bit his lip, but he nodded. Dean let go of his cock and stepped back, carefully guarding their little corner of the backstage so no one accidentally happened upon them. Cas got himself settled on the speaker between songs, holding the edges and spreading his legs to give himself some leverage. They made eye contact as the next song began, and Dean knew Cas would let him know if he couldn't handle it.

Cas went with the vibrations this time. He let his body sway and grind against the speaker to maximize every sensation. He looked like he was riding a mechanical bull as he writhed atop the black box.

Dean palmed himself as he watched Cas arch his back and cry out as he kept himself under control. Dean stepped forward just long enough to pull Cas' shirt up and over his head, and then he went back to his station.

Cas' cock looked painfully hard as the first song drew to a close, and the band thanked the audience before diving into their last number. Pearly liquid beaded up around the ball at the slit of the head. Dean wanted to lick it away, but he held himself back. Cas was absolutely shaking as the band got going again.

As they reached the set of solos Dean had memorized in his time with the tour, he strode forward and took Cas' cock into his mouth. He took it as far as he could without hurting himself on the metal of the piercing. He pulled back to teasing the ball beneath the head before licking up the precome at the one through the head.

Cas sobbed and white knuckled the speaker. Dean lifted him off of it right before the drummer took his solo. He placed Cas on his feet just long enough to spin him to face the speaker, and them he lifted him onto it again, so his chest rested on it and his legs and ass hung off the side.

Removing the plug carefully but quickly, Dean pressed his mouth to Cas' hole as soon as it was out of the way. He pushed his tongue into Cas and reached between his legs to stroke him off. Cas kicked his legs as he cried out in pleasure. Dean began to alternate between his tongue and his fingers, and soon he had both pressing into Cas.

Dean knew that Cas' nipple piercings had to be absorbing every vibration just as the plug had, but he was careful not to let the cock piercing near the speaker because he was afraid it would be too much. Cas seemed to have other ideas because he tried to rock himself against it as Dean licked into him. Dean stroked him harder and doubled his efforts with his tongue, but as the song came to a head, Dean pressed Cas' cock to the speaker.

That did it, and he could hear Cas even over the thunderous music. Cas' body convulsed, pumping against the speaker, and clamping down on Dean's fingers which continued to milk his prostate through Cas' orgasm.

Dean wasn't expecting the song to end before Cas did, but the song cut out as Cas let out a final wail of pleasure. Dean bit his lip, but Cas as too satisfied to be self-conscious. He continued to pant raggedly as Dean slowed his fingers and carefully removed them.

Cas was mumbling as Dean pulled his pants up. He helped Cas down into his arms and kissed him soundly as Cas wrapped his arms around his neck. “We've still got another set before you're on, so I'm going to bring you back to the bus and make love to you. How's that sound?” Dean asked, adjusting Cas in his arms. Only the grueling workouts he forced himself through allowed him to continue to carry Cas this way. Cas wasn't as light as he looked in his over sized shirts.

“Will you pretend to be rescuing me from crazy hitmen as you carry me?” Cas teased, sounding completely intoxicated by what they'd just done.

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean told him, chastising himself for the thousandth time for telling Cas about his love of _The Bodyguard_.

“Oh Frank. How did I ever doubt you!” Cas cried, as Dean carried him through the backstage area.

“Get it, Rachel!” Meg shouted from the dressing room as they passed.

Dean felt his cheeks heating rapidly. “You didn't have to tell her about that,” Dean grumbled.

“I tell her everything,” Cas retorted.

Dean sighed, kissing Cas' cheek as he got them to the bus as quickly as possible. He let himself imagine just for a moment that he was carrying Cas to safety then making love to him. He took his job very seriously—too seriously if you asked Gabriel who had nearly gotten punched after some tasteless pranks—and he never wanted anything to happen to Cas. However, he did have a soft spot for that movie.

When they got into Cas' bunk, Dean stripped him slowly and worshiped his body in a way he didn't often get to while on tour with too many other people. When Cas was hard again, Dean positioned himself between Cas' legs and slid into him. Dean loved when they did it missionary because he could kiss Cas the entire time, and sometimes that was exactly what they both needed.

Once they were both sated, they laid in each other's arms until Balthazar came out to let them know it was showtime. Dean helped Cas dress before kissing him soundly and following him back to the stage, hand firmly at the small of Cas' back.

Cas gave him a smirk before taking his mic as the band started to play their now infamous intro. He didn't break eye contact with Dean as he wailed. He backed onto the stage, still watching Dean as he gasped. He never faltered as he made his way to the center of the stage without ever looking away. When he got to his spot, he turned to face the audience and cried out.

Dean bit his lip as he smiled. Even though they did this about four nights a week, it never seemed to get old. The fire in Cas' eyes never failed to send Dean's blood racing while at the same time soothing the worry deep in his gut that had been present since the story broke about Cas' hospitalization.

Cas sang his heart out and gave all of his energy to his performance. He'd been high energy before he was hospitalized, but since he'd been sober he could seemingly go forever. Some times, Dean didn't think the rest of the band would make it to the end of the show the way Cas kept pushing for another song, but they always did and were always excited afterward.

Cas sauntered off stage with the others after the set, and he gave Dean a sloppy kiss before taking the bottle of water Dean had been nursing and finishing it. He wiped his mouth on his sweaty arm before kissing Dean again. He gave Dean a loopy smile and squeezed his shoulder before walking back on stage with just Balthazar and his acoustic guitar.

“This one's for all of you here tonight.” Cas' said as he got settled on his stool. Balthazar played a couple cords on the keyboard as Cas got himself situated. “I've been working on this whole thing where I confront my feelings instead of bottling them up then drowning them when the cork threatens to come out. So, I've been writing about things other than sex lately.” Cas paused for the collective cry of distress from the crowd and Balthazar. Cas flipped his bandmate off before addressing the fans again. “I know, I know, but just hear me out.”

Balthazar took that as his cue to start playing, and Cas quickly joined him in the solemn tune. It was more upbeat than “Take the Lead,” but nowhere near as lively as many of their others. It had an almost dreamlike quality, and Dean couldn't fight back his emotions as he knew what was to follow. Cas' smooth voice soon filled his ears and penetrated deep into his chest.

 

You are my saving grace, my steadfast faith

because you let me save myself

Even when I make mistakes

You make me want to do better

You make me want to be

A man you can be proud of

A man I can be proud of

 

A man without pride and arrogance

A man without vice and violence

A man without shame for the things he can't change

A man without all those things he was falsely taught

would make him better in the eyes of the Lord

A man without any sense of doubt

That this is where he belongs

 

Maybe it's obvious when you look at me

Maybe it's clear but sometimes I can't see

What's right there in front of my eyes

So, I just want you to know that every time I let go

I have faith that you'll catch me and hold me

Until my feet are beneath me

and I can stand on my own once again

 

The crowd was silent as they finished, but it wasn't the sort of silence that was a sign of dislike. It seemed more stunned and maybe anticipatory since it was common knowledge that Cas finished every show with “Take the Lead” now. And sure enough, he and Balthazar started playing it even before the crowd could catch their breath.

When they finished, the crowd's roar was deafening, and Dean grinned as Cas walked back to him. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and held him tightly, grateful for every night they got to do this together.

If someone had asked Dean a year ago where he saw himself in a year, he wouldn't have said this would be it. He wouldn't have dreamed of giving up his career in the octagon for one serving as a bodyguard for a rock star. He couldn't have dreamed of traveling with one of the biggest bands in the world or having a publicly known relationship with a man. He could have never imagined loving someone and having the sort of trust he had with Cas.

And if someone asked him today where he saw himself in a year, he would happily tell them that it didn't matter where he was so long as Cas was at his side.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you for reading, and I hope you really enjoyed this story!


End file.
